On the way home from church yesterday, Andrew (age 8) asked if he could read some of the book of Revelation after lunch. As Amy and I looked at each other, I could tell we were thinking different things.
Amy: "Quit looking at me and keep your eyes on the road."
Me: "Where did we go wrong? He'd always been such a good boy."
I told him I couldn't think of a time when it wouldn't be okay to read the Bible. Maybe in the middle of the night, I offered, but Amy correctly jumped in to tell him if he ever woke up and felt like he needed to read the Bible that he should go ahead and do it. (This is one of roughly 2,017 reasons why it's always good to have Amy around.)
After lunch, as I settled in to an afternoon of deep meditation and inner reflection, highlighted by the constant clicking between two NFL games and the movie "Shallow Hal" on TBS, Andrew opened his purple NIV Reader's Version and began reading the last book of the Bible. Periodically, he'd come in to ask me a question about what he'd read or more often just to marvel at that apocalyptic vision John witnessed and wrote about in Scripture.
In fact, it's possible that Andrew reading Revelation while I watch anything involving Gwyneth Paltrow is itself a sign of the apocalypse.
Hang on, I'll ask him.