“Daddy,” my seven-year old said yesterday, “I know why babies can’t talk.”

We were riding alone together in the car. I looked in the rearview mirror. “Because they don’t know how?”

“Well yes,” he laughed. “That too. But the real reason is so they can’t tell us about heaven,”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded seriously. “I think God made babies so that they can’t talk until after they’ve forgotten what heaven’s like.”

“Could be.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, looking out the window.

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