To help our five-year-old son with the trauma of his pet goldfish's demise, I agreed he could "send the goldfish back to God" any way he wanted. Expecting him to give the goldfish a proper burial in our flower garden, I was surprised to receive a call from our rural area's postmaster.

"Could you come over?" she asked. "I have something to show you." I headed right over.

"A lot is expected of the post office," she said, laughing, "but this is the most amazing delivery we've ever been asked to make!"

On the outside of a business-sized envelope, printed in big blue capital letters I recognized Ben's printing: To God from Ben. Inside the envelope was a very flat, dead goldfish.
Glenda Barbre
Rhododendron, Oregon

My friend's grandson Sheldon had made it clear he did not want to go to kindergarten. So his mother was prepared for the worst when he came home from his first day at school. "So how did you enjoy kindergarten?" she asked.

"Well," he admitted, "I enjoyed it more than I wanted to."
Erma Landis
Lititz, Pennsylvania

I had to have blood drawn at the doctor's office, and my five-year-old daughter, Mary, came along. When the nurse held up the needle, Mary never blinked. When she inserted the needle into my arm, Mary watched with interest. As the blood began to flow, my daughter acted as if she'd seen this a million times. Finally Mary winced on my behalf when the nurse, the procedure over, reached into her pocket and pulled out something my daughter did associate with pain: a Band-Aid.
Terri Pelger
Alliance, Ohio

On Halloween night my three-year-old grandson, Brian, couldn't sleep because he was convinced ghosts were in his room. "It's all in your head," his mother reassured him. "Now go to sleep."

Before she got down the stairs, his voice called out again. "Mom, the ghosts have left my head and are running around my room!"
Ann C. Ayler
North, Virginia

Sneaking into the bedroom one night, five-year-old Josh was listening to his grandfather's telephone conversation with Grandpa's friend Carl. After several minutes Josh's mother found him-still on the phone. "Who are you talking to?" she asked.

"Carl."

"But Grandpa and Carl hung up a while ago," his mother said.

"Oh, no," he insisted. "Carl's still on here. He keeps saying if I'd like to make a call, please hang up and dial again."
Lynn Bell
Corvallis, Oregon

As a Cub Scouts chaplain, I close each meeting with vespers. One night I asked the boys what some of God's commandments were. Many correct answers were shouted out before a voice called from the back: "Don't drink and drive."
James W. Isenberg
Shelbyville, Kentucky

I accompanied my four-year-old, Matt, to a pre-kindergarten screening session where they tested his hearing, eyesight, speech, and motor skills. The last stop was with the school nurse who emphasized the importance of washing hands before meals. "Germs from our hands can get on our food while eating," she explained.

"Oh, I don't need to worry about that," Matt assured her. "We use forks at our house."
Linda Economy
Floodwood, Minnesota

My five-year-old daughter, Barbara, had disobeyed me and had been sent to her room. After a few minutes, I went in to talk with her about what she had done. Teary-eyed, she asked, "Why do we do wrong things, Mommy?"

"Well," I replied, "sometimes the devil tells us to do something wrong and we listen to him. We need to listen to God instead."

To which she sobbed, "But God doesn't talk loud enough!"
Jo M. Guerrero
Joplin, Missouri

When we were driving through Pennsylvania Dutch country, my seven-year-old grandson, Michael, couldn't get over all the Amish buggies. "Grandpa, why do they use horses instead of cars?"

"Because they don't believe in automobiles," his mother explained.

It was quiet for a minute, then Michael said, "But can't they see them?"
Harold F. Bermel
Havertown, Pennsylvania