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The best times to talk to Jack -- when he's the most focused on talking -- is when he is in the tub or on the pot. And getting him to go potty can be a real pain in the arse. So tonight I found myself sitting on the edge of the tub in the boy's bathroom as I waited for him to take care of his business. The conversation went a bit like this:

"Why are you sitting on the side of the tub, Mama?"
"Why not? I am waiting for you to go stinky."
"I know, I know. I am working on it."
Silence.
"Mama, how do you get to heaven?"
"I am not sure. I think God comes and whispers in your ear to let you know it's time to go to the wonderful place called heaven and then he guides you there."
Silence.
"So do you think we get to fly there?"
"Probably."
"Wow. Fly. That will be great. How long do you think we get to fly? Do you think people can fly in heaven?"
"Jack, I am really not sure. All I know about heaven is that it's a great treat to get to go there and when you're there, you are happy."
"A treat? Like a cookie?"
"Um ... sure."
"Or a brownie?"
"Yes. Something that you like."
"I love brownies."
"Yeah?"
Silence.
"Wait, Mama ... what is a brownie again?"
"They are like chocolate cake only you don't put frosting on it and they are chewier."
"Right, right. That's what I thought."
Silence.
"I want to take brownies to school when I am the Razzle-Dazzle."
"That's a great idea."
(At this point I was feeling pretty great about the heaven talk. I felt like I had really been able to provide some key ideas that left him satisfied.)
"Mama? Mama? Mama?"
"Jack, I am right here. Are you almost done?"
"I am working on it. ... Mama, what does God look like?"
"I don't know."
"But how will we know when he comes to get us if we don't know what he looks like?"
"I think we'll know. I think we'll be able to tell."
"Yeah me too. I think God looks like and old man in a suit."
"In a suit, huh? What color is the suit?"
"Green and gold."
"Yeah? What kind of suit is that?"
"You know like the priests at church."
"Oh, so you think God looks like our priest?"
"Yes ... don't you?"
"Jack, I think that makes perfect sense to me."
He shakes his head in agreement.
Silence again. I run my fingers through my hair, clean my glasses in my shirt and wait.
"So, how much time do you think you have?"
"Time for what?"
"Time until God calls you to heaven."
"I have no idea Jack but when He does, I will be happy that I was chosen."
"Yeah me too. Except Daddy said I have a million years. So, I have some time."
"Yeah, a million years is a lot of time. That's great."
"Well, if I have a million that you must have a least half a million."
"Well, that wouldn't be too bad."
"Yeah, and besides, Mama. We will all end up in heaven anyway, right?"
"That's right, boo. Now flush."