Often as we bless the food, each of us just clasps our hands, instead of folding our arms. But the Boy has learned from nursery (yay nursery, we love nursery) that one should fold their arms. So while we pray, he corrects us one by one. "No, not that way daddy, like this," until he improves his form, then on to me, then the girls.
This morning, as he quietly insisted "Like this [Kiddo]" throughout the entire prayer, I was reminded of another prayer police. Except when Babs was the enforcer quiet words were never enough.
