None of my (suburban, American, well-fed and cared for) grandchildren has ever told me, “I want a rubber band this Christmas.” Nor “I asked Santa for a bowl of oatmeal.” Nor “I wish for a tube of toothpaste.”
No. They dream big: They ask for new bicycles and good books to read and ponies. They want fire trucks and baby dolls with eyes that open and puzzles and new games for their PlayStations. Cadence, the year he was three, wanted “a friendly shark and an ocean to keep him in.”
You’ll find the rest of the story over at BibleDude.net. Please scoot over and read it.