My father-in-law's funeral service was today.
At one point, the pastor invited people to come up to the mic to share a personal memory of my father-in-law. After several people spoke, my 4-year-old, who had been standing a few feet away from me holding my own father's hand, calmly pulled away from his Papa and confidently strode up to the pastor.
Silently, solemnly, he met the pastor's eyes and pointed to the mic.
The smiling pastor lowered the mic and lifted my son, who clearly and boldly pronounced to the assembly: "I hafta go Potty."
The crowd dissolved into giggles and guffaws as my Dad caught up to my little Bam-Bam and led him off to take care of business.
I have to tell you, I think my father-in-law would have been rolling in the aisles with laughter.