God and Band-aids

Last night, as I was putting Madeleine to bed, she had some existential questions following the recitation of her prayer.

MADELEINE: Mommy, where's God?
ME: God is in Heaven, honey.
MADELEINE: No, where's God?
ME: God lives in Heaven.  We can't see God, but He can see us.
MADELEINE: No, God is at church.
ME: Well, yes, God is at church, and we learn about God at church, you're right. 
MADELEINE: No, God lives at church.
ME: God lives at church?
MADELEINE: Yeah!  And... He gives us some food.  And then we get bread!

It was at this point in the conversation that I realized Madeleine has been under the impression, all this time, that our priest is God.  The food he gives to Madeleine is actually Communion, after which she gets her piece of bread.  The thing that's really interesting to me is that Madeleine doesn't seem to notice, or care, that God has changed from a young, black-bearded, Greek-American God to an older, gray-haired, thick Greek-accented God as our parish recently transitioned to a new priest.  It's all God to her, I guess.

Madeleine did a great job sleeping in her big girl bed again last night, and once again woke up with a dry pull-up, although I would have preferred to sleep a little longer past the crack of dawn.  At around quarter to six this morning, Madeleine stood outside my bedroom door, pleading, "Mommy!  Open your door!"  When I appeared in the doorway, she announced to me that she had hurt her chin and needed a Hello Kitty band-aid.  I saw nary a scratch on her chin, but obliged with the band-aid, which she has been wearing proudly all morning:

We had another injury in the house today, both causing, and as a result of,  a big dramatic to-do.  As I attempted to hustle the kids downstairs to get Julia to school, Madeleine, who was wailing over the fact that she didn't have a dress EXACTLY like the one Julia was wearing, got Unicornio's hoof caught in the leg hole of my shorts.  Instead of standing still so that I could extract the leg, she decided to yank repeatedly on Unicornio, desperate to get him uncaught.  And then, suddenly: SNAP.  Poor Unicornio has become a lame horse:

Half of his front leg is now detached, unfortunately.  Oh, the wailing, oh, the drama.  When I attempted to make things mildly better by offering Unicornio the band-aid from Madeleine's chin, total chaos ensued.  If you were in Madeleine's head, which crisis would be more likely to cause a total, complete, utter melt-down: a) having an unneccessary band--aid taken off of an imaginary boo-boo, or b) having your most beloved toy permanently lose his foot?  If you chose a), then DING!  DING!  DING!  We have a winner!!

The end result was a new band-aid on Madeleine's chin, further wasting our bandages for cuts that don't exist, and acceptance of the newly-amputated Unicornio.  I mean, really, once her band-aid was back on, she really didn't seem all that upset about her wounded horse:

Speaking of beloved toys, I attempted to get a video of Madeleine singing her latest favorite song, "Bridge Over Troubled Water," but she was way too distracted by her Cinderella and Ariel Polly Pockets to stay focused:



There is never a dull moment in this household, that is for certain.