What is Hebrew?

So...
My son is the funniest four year old person, perhaps, of all time.
And maybe a bit weird. 

In the last 23 minutes, these are our interactions, as close to word for word as I can get them.





Appears where I am working,

Boy:  I'm going to be a priest when I grow up.
His Mother:  What do you mean?
Boy:  Mama - you mean you don't know what a priest is?
His Mother:  I do know what a priest is.  I'm just wondering what you mean.
Boy:  I mean, I'm going to work at a church.

Leaves for a moment.
Returns, carrot in hand.

Boy:  I was hungry mostly for some chips but I can just eat a carrot I guess.
His Mother:  Awesome.
Boy:  When Steven dies, I can be our new pastor at church.  Which will be a long time from now.  *Runs out of room*

Five minutes later:


Boy:  It's good that it's going to be a long time until Steven dies; I'm not good enough to be a priest yet.
Ooh, I just burped up a bit of that carrot.

His Mother:  Let's not comment on burping, buddy.   I gchatted Steven and told him you want to be the next pastor.  He said he'll teach you Hebrew whenever you want him to.

Boy:  Okay, today would be good.

A few minutes later:

Boy:  What is Hebrew?
His Mother:  The language in which the Old Testament is written.  Preachers need to know it.
Boy:  Well, it's good that Steven knows it then.  How did he learn it?
His Mother:  Went to school.


Boy:  What's my name going to be when I grow up?  Eason is a good little boy name, but not a good grown up name.
His Mother:  That's not true, buddy.  I have a cousin who is sixty something years old and his name is Eason and he leads a perfectly successful adult life - has a wife, children, and runs or owns or something at least one bank.
Boy:  Where does he live?  On our same continent.  Probably since he is your cousin.
His Mother:  Actually, he lives around the corner - on Meadowbrook Road. 
Boy:  Can I meet him?
His Mother:  Sure - at some point.
Boy:  Like soon.  Like when we're not busy.  Like at 5:30 today?
His Mother:  Probably not today, but I'm sure bigger Eas would love to meet smaller Eas. 
Boy:  Good.

Five minutes later:

Boy:  Can we start building fires every night?  Now that it's pretty much Christmas and Halloween?
His Mother:  You should ask Daddy.




One reflection:  A year or two ago, I would have felt the need to delve into the logistically and theologically suspicious thoughts in his "Im going to be a priest" stream of consciousness.  I mean, Steven isn't a priest.  We don't even have priests at our church. Wonder why he chose that word.  I have my suspicions [Priest carries with it a different ontology than Pastor, Preacher, etc., and even children know that].  Also, clergy people, whatever you call them, don't serve a church until death, at which point they pass down the mantle to a protege.  We aren't Elijah/Elisha here.  Also - good enough to be a priest?  On the one hand, I want him to realize that he's becoming more sanctified - more well behaved, less rebellious, in a word, "better", but at the same time, I don't want him thinking that Priests are in a different category than the rest of us. They aren't better.  And waiting until you're good enough to be one is like waiting until you have enough money to get married or until you're mature enough to have babies.

I didn't delve in because I'm tireder than I used to be, and, oh, because I've come to realize a bit in my parentjourney (yes i just said that) that I don't have to correct every error every time? 
Also, don't hurt my feelings about your name, Child.  It is a beautiful name.  Eason McNie Forster.
Also, I'm glad you eat carrots.