My son, Mitchell, a kindergartener, practices spelling with magnetic letters on the refrigerator: cat, dog, dad, and mom have been proudly displayed for all to see. One morning while getting ready for the day, Mitchell bounded into the room with his arms outstretched. In his hands were three magnetic letters: G-O-D. "Look what I spelled, Mom!" Mitch exclaimed, a proud smile on his face.
"That's wonderful!" I praised him. "Now go put them on the fridge so Dad can see when he gets home tonight." That Catholic education is certainly having an impact, I thought, happily.
Just then, a little voice called from the kitchen. "Mom? How do you spell zilla?"