He hopped up on the kneeling bench tonight, standing in his little, high topped tennis shoes meant for a posture of devotion he was the same height of the adults before him who had knelt there. He grinned up at the priest and she bent down to his level and took his cherub cheeks in hers, smudging his little forehead and she told him intimately, "Remember, that you are dust and to dust you shall return." He listened, paused for a split second, flashed her another grin, and told her agreeably "Okay!" and jumped off the kneeling bench without a backward glance.
Okay, I'm dust.
Okay, I'll be dust again someday.
Time to practice joyfully jumping off the kneeling bench.