My daughter can kick your a$$

And then she'll pray for you. My little karate queen. She's already testing for her yellow belt. She's not getting it yet, but Jack (the instructor) has been testing her every session and says she's amazingly close. He is testing her by puffing out his cheeks and telling her to do a punch combo on him, a right-left-right hook-uppercut. She's beaned him good a couple of times, made him rub his jaw. She's taking karate seriously, and wants to do well, but she is still enjoying it. And the 6:00 class makes her eat! She ate two whole pieces of pizza last night, crust and all. And then collapsed into bed and fell asleep right away. I love karate.

Last night I wouldn't let her eat until I got a plate and sat down beside her, and then told her we had to pray. She promptly crossed herself, watched me to make sure I did the same, stopped to criticize my crossing technique, we had to start all over, and then rattled off a blessing. It's amazing what she knows that I don't know that she knows. At breakfast there was some contention over whether or not you have to close your eyes when you pray. I thought you did, she swears you don't. I will have to wait for Clark to get to work to find out for certain. I almost made a bet with her on the subject, but betting on prayer and church tradition probably isn't the best example to set.

I'm going to get some coffee and get myself to work. I would like to take a moment to publicly thank Mr. Mike Clark, my knight in shining armor, for making it possible to drive home last night without my engine catching fire or exploding. Mad props, baby, mad props. I'm so uncool. Thank you, Mr. Clark.