Last week, I took my grandchildren to a restaurant.
My eight-year-old grandson asked if he could say grace.
As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good, God is great. Thank you for
the food, and I would thank you even more if Grandpa gets us ice cream for
dessert. And liberty and justice for all! Amen!"
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman
remark, "That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know
how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why I never!"
Hearing this, my grandson burst into tears and asked me,
"Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?"
So after I assured him that he had done a terrific job and that God was certainly
not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table.
He winked at my grandson and said, "I happen to know that God thought that
was a great prayer."
"Really?" my grandson asked.
"Cross my heart," the man replied.
Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added (indicating the woman whose remark
had started this whole thing), "Too bad she never asks God for ice cream.
A little ice cream is sometimes good for the soul."
Naturally, I bought my grandchildren ice cream at the end of the meal. My
grandson stared at his ice cream for a moment, and then he did something I
will remember the rest of my life.
He picked up his sundae and, without a word, walked over and placed it in
front of the woman.
With a big smile he told her:
"Here, this is for you. Shove it up your ass, you grouchy old bitch!"
Kind of brings tears to your eyes, doesn't it?
