“Can you do me a favor?” Melody asked me.
“What do you need?”
“I need somebody to drop Davin off at Sunday School and to pick him up when it’s over.”
“Why me? You know I don’t do Sunday School.”
“Oh, come on. A seven year-old boy needs all the guidance he can get. You don’t actually have to go to church. All you have to do is drop him off and pick him up.”
“O.K.”
After Melody got him all cleaned and scrubbed and dressed Davin came upstairs to get me.
“I’m ready to go Grandpa,” he said.
“Wow! Where did you get that shiner?”
“What’s a shiner?”
“It’s a black eye,” I told him. “Somebody must have poked you in the eye. Were you fighting?”
“I got in a fight with Carlos yesterday. He hit me in the eye.”
“Davin, good boys don’t fight,” I said.
“I thought Carlos was a good boy,” Davin said. “I punched him once and found out he wasn’t.”
Near the end of Sunday School I arrived five minutes early. From outside the door I could hear the teacher ending the class.
“Next week we learn about the resurrection,” the teacher said. “Does anyone know anything about the resurrection?”
“I do, teacher,” Davin’s voice rang out clearly. “I saw it on TV.”
“You did? What can you tell us about the resurrection?”
“I don’t know exactly what it is,” Davin said, “but on TV it says you should call a doctor if you have one for more than four hours.”
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