Sanctification comes in many forms...

"What's that smell?" I asked Bray, as I came in our apartment door this evening. I had been rehearsing for a violin recital that I am playing piano for next week, and thus had left Bray with the bedtime routine. He looked up at me with a somewhat cynical expression and said, "Oh, it could be anything, really." This of course sparked my curiosity, and I said, "What do you mean, anything?"
He paused before beginning the saga that is now this story: "Well, there's the sweet, little girl; good, kind Daddy, and then Satan."
"Satan?" I said, thinking that I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know what had happened.
"I was giving the little girl a bath, and Hobbes was playing sweetly with his cars in his room. After a little bit, Hobbes comes into the bathroom, covered in white. With one hand, he was hitting himself on his stomach and legs, creating puffs of white in the air, and in the other hand, he held an upside-down bottle of baby powder."
"See, Daddy? It's funn! See the whipe?" (he can't say white very well)
Bray quickly got Madeline out of the tub, and then followed the trail of white into their bedroom, where the entire rest of the contents of the bottle of powder was strewn about the room, covering it like a blanket of snow.
After dealing with Hobbes in a disciplinary fashion, Bray began vacuuming up the powder. As he vacuumed, the powder conducted a bit of electricity, and Bray would get little shocks from the blue sparks. Madeline thought this was funny for awhile, but then decided to go and see what her brother was up to now.
As Bray turned off the vacuum, he thought he heard some splashing. He thought this was a bit odd, as the tub was empty, and neither child had access to water. Tentatively, he walked out into the kitchen to see what the source of the splashing was.
Madeline was crawling on the kitchen floor, and splashing her hands in a pool of sticky liquid. Next to the sink, Bray found Hobbes, standing on a chair, which he had pulled over from the table, attempting to drink the juice out of the crushed pineapple can that was left out from dinner. The only problem was Hobbes didn't really get any of the juice in his mouth; thus the cause of the sticky pool that the newly-bathed Madeline was splashing in.
After wiping off both kids as best he could, Bray put them promptly to bed, and managed to clean up the kitchen floor before I got home.
The lingering smell of baby powder and pineapple juice hung in the air.
"So that's why it smells funny..." I thought of saying, but thankfully, my better judgment came through, and instead I gave Bray a hug and a kiss, and thanked him for taking 'sanctification' so well.
I love you, Bray!