I love them. They’re as random as the clouds that pass over my head but they fill my heart with joy every time he asks them.
My son’s questions.
They generally happen when it’s just him and me riding along in the car. He’ll be quiet for the longest time, then, out of no where, he breaks the silence with a very typical “Hey Dad?”
And then he hits me with what ever he has been mulling over in that complicated mind of his. I truly never know what he’s going to ask. But I can know there will be questions and a plethora of them.
My favorite question this morning was…
“Was the Bible written before the Revolutionary War?”
I don’t care how many he asks, I don’t care what he asks, I simply pray he will always ask.