Five year old Malcolm was a lovable, talkative little boy. He seemed to have boundless energy from morning till night, and there were times when he almost exhausted his devoted parents.
One afternoon a kindly minister ... a friend of the family ... called at the house. After a short while he brought Malcolm into the general conversation. "Tell me, do you say your prayers every night?"
Malcolm stared at the carpet. "Not every night."
"Indeed! And why is that?" asked the minister, his eyes twinkling.
The boy looked up and smiled. "Daddy says them for me. When he carries me upstairs he often says - "Well, thank God you'll soon be fast asleep and the house will be quiet." Malcolm paused, "And then I say 'Amen'."