Seven o'clock this morning found me donning Tyler's camo jacket and boots and heading out to the chicken coop for some eggs. I packed nine green and brown eggs into an old carton and brought them inside to my boys. Together we made eggs in a basket, one of their breakfast favorites.
My boysenberries talked about spirits and bodies and where they lived before they were in my tummy as they cooked. Deep theology, and they hadn't even had their breakfast! Benefactor, in true rebel fashion, declared that he hates heaven, and S.A.M., in true faith and kindness told him heaven must be perfect.
They ate their breakfast inches from each other. Benefactor scooted as close as possible to his wise older brother. They ate and talked, moving on to lighter subjects like armor and poison and war.