This past week,

our seven-year-old granddaughter spent Saturday night with my wife and

me and went to church with us the next morning. We have four wonderful

grandchildren.

Tori is the

oldest. Next is Tristan, age 6, followed by Isaac at 5. Sam, the youngest,

is 3 (or is it 4?). I am pretty much convinced that grandchildren are

God's reward for not killing your own children when they were teenagers.

As we were

preparing for bed, I said, "Tori, your'e seven now. That's getting

pretty old. Where do you want to sleep?"

Looking at

me as though I were daft, she replied, "I'm going to sleep with you

and Granny (the chosen name for Cindy, my wife)."

"But Tori,

you are seven years old!"

Her brow furrowed

as she said simply, "So?"

"Where

are you going to sleep when you are ten?"

"With

you and Granny."

"What

about when you are 15?"

"With

you and Granny."

"But what

if you were 20 or 30?"

"Even

when I get to be 80, Im going to sleep with you and Granny."

Well, that

would put me at about 124 years old, so that's not too likely, I mused.

As she looked at me with that bright smile and innocent face, I smiled.

She will not

want to sleep with us too much longer, of course. Sooner or later, she

will be a big girl and expect her own room with her own bed when she spends

the night. All too soon, her time will be taken up with concerns other

than Barbie dolls, Crayola crayons, and making cookies with Granny. All

too soon she will be a young lady and then, overnight, she will blossom

into a woman.

But not just

yet. No, thankfully, not just yet. It's a curious time for me, having

this little flower in my home. I have one brother but no sisters. Cindy

and I had three sons, but no daughters. We also have three grandsons.

I come from

a long line of males. My father was one of nine children, seven of them

boys. Girls are a new experience and a mystery for me.

standards, I am a blessed man, with all these boys around. I understand

boys. Boys are full of testosterone and break things just because they

can. My grandsons scare the bejabbers out of me by playing parachute and

leaping with full abandon from the seventh step (or the tenth step) of

the stairwell in our foyer to the hardwood floor below.

Boys get a

stick and poke and prod at snakes in the yard. Boys crowd into a clothes

closet full of winter clothes, shut the door, and light matches to see

what will happen. Boys jump off the diving board into deep water knowing

full well that they can't swim.

We have friends

who had two beautiful daughters. Life was smooth and calm. Then a son

was born. One Sunday morning, as she came into church, a look of exasperation

on her face and dragging the stubborn man-child behind her, all she could

do was look at me and say, "David, my God!" My wife, who has

a Ph.D. in nursing and knows a great deal about these and other matters,

says that all males are the victims of testosterone poisoning.

Girls are definitely

not boys. Ive never watched a little girl in the process of growing up.

It is a fascinating experience. The boys, when they stay over, never want

to sleep with Granny and Pop. In fact, they'd just as soon sleep outside

in the woods, if we'd let them.

My youngest

son used to get up in the middle of the night and set traps. He said it

was in case bad guys broke into the house, but the only people who ever

crashed to the ground were his older brothers.

Boys must be

on the move and doing something. They want to play war and shoot things.

We had friends once who forbade toy guns in their house. It was all to

no avail. Their two sons made guns out of sticks and bazookas out of tree

limbs. Boys are warriors from the beginning.

Tori, on the

other hand, sits in my lap and lets me brush her hair. She helps Granny

clean up in the kitchen and she enjoys reading stories. Sometimes, she

will just kiss us for no apparent reason.

Then, when

the lights are out, she crawls between us, reaches out to touch us both,

and sleeps the repose of the innocent. The other morning, I awoke at 4

a.m. The light from the street lamp dimly lit the bedroom as I lay beside

her and watched her sleep for the next hour.

It will all

come to an end sometime in the near future. Oh, she will visit us and

spend the night, but she will rest in solitude in the other bedroom down

the hall. Inevitably, she will grow up and begin to cease being a little

girl. But not just yet. No, thankfully, not just yet.

[David Epps

is rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church in Peachtree

City. He may be contacted at [email protected] or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com .]