Dad: Dear heavenly Father, we thank you for the food we’re about to eat. We thank you for the beautiful people gathered at this table. Most of all, we thank you for our new driveway. Our old driveway had dangerous potholes, but the new one is perfectly smooth. Two cars could fit comfortably in our new driveway, maybe three if you really squeeze them together.

Son: Dad, may I add something? About our new driveway?

Dad: Son, I’d like nothing more.

Son: Um, hi God. I’m Billy. Sorry we’ve never talked. Like Dad, I think the new driveway is pretty cool. Thank you for blessing us with it by allowing mom and dad to work long overtime hours so they could pay for it.

Dad: Thank you, God.

Son: Anyways, oh heavenly Father, I was wondering what would happen if somebody rode their bike on our new driveway while the cement was still settling, and their bike got stuck, and they had to crawl their way out from the sludge? Lord, could you heal the Hellish scar this hypothetical boy left in our new driveway? In addition, for Christmas or some other holy occasion, could you buy him a new Schwinn Roadster without concrete jammed in the gears?

Dad: Son, this isn’t storytime.

Son: Uh, God… thank you for ignorance, and thank you for merciful punishment.

Dad: And?

Son: Smooth driveways. Thank you for smooth driveways.

All: Amen.

Dad: And, son, please clean up after dinner. You look like some kind of rock monster right now.