Little Mikey was determined to transport his entire bedroom’s contents to his dad’s place using only his toy wagon. Halfway up the neighborhood’s steepest incline, his small arms strained against the heavy load. “This stupid wagon’s gonna kill me!” he groaned.
The parish priest happened to be tending his garden nearby. “Such language, Michael! The Almighty hears everything you say – in the sanctuary, on the playground, even right here.”
Mikey wiped his brow thoughtfully. “So He’s in my wagon right now?” When the priest confirmed this theological truth, the exhausted boy yelled, “Well tell Him to quit loafing around and grab the other handle!”
