[You have to imagine the adults in this story whispering and Teresa speaking in a normal conversational tone.]
Fr. D: "...for Benedict our Pope..."
T: "Where's Pope Benedict?!"
Dad: "Not here."
T: "Oh, right. He's taking care of baby Jesus, right?"
Dad: "Baby Jesus grew up."
T: "Oh yeah. And died and went to Heaven."
[Earlier this week it would have been my grandfather's 76th birthday; I showed T a picture not expecting her to recognize him and she immediately said, "Dat's my gwampa and he died in Heaven."]
Me: "Teresa, look, what's Fr. Dan doing?"
T: "He's feedin' dem. He puts dat cookie on der hand, like dis. I bet dat cookie tastes good."
Me: "Mmmhmm. Can you whisper?"
T: "When I older I get a cookie. It tastes like bread...It's like bread on the inside, right?"
Me: "Umm...something like that." [Sorry, but I'm not explaining Transubstantiation to a chatty four-year-old.]
T: "And I'm am gonna get one when I a big girl."
Mom: "Big girls are quiet in Church."