this is what happens every time daddy holds him. every time. within one minute.
so this morning matt leans over to him and says, “you hate me, don’t ya? backatchya, boy. i’m cuttin’ you outta my will.”
me, in condescending tone, “daddy. don’t say that. you should represent God’s love to him – think of when we hate God. He loves us inspite of our hate.”
daddy, “he’s not one of the elect.”