Another story happened when my daughter and her family moved into a new ward. On the first Sunday in the new ward, the mother was taking each child to find their new Primary class. After successfully delivering a couple of younger siblings, she turned to her 9-year-old son and told him they were headed out to find the Valiant 9 class. He stopped dead in his tracks and told her he belonged in the Violent 9 class.

Nyla W. Banner

Morgan

Once while walking through a store, our 3-year-old grandchild, Cary, saw a plastic bird sitting on a perch that chirped whenever someone walked by. Cary really wanted that bird, but being the clever fellow that he is, and maybe knowing how to get around me, he said, "My mother would really like that bird." How could I resist? I asked him if he would take care of it for her, make it a nest and watch over it. He assured me that he would.

Days of constant caring for the bird showed his tender side. But one day, his sister Kelly, age 7, had enough and said, "Cary, put that stupid bird away." He quickly replied, "Kelly, Heavenly Father loves fake birds, too."

Anna Bates

Orem

While I was serving as a bishop, our family was having Family Home Evening in the family room of our basement. Participating were my sons Sean, 16, and Keelan, 10; my daughter Kellie, who was staying over with us along with her 2-year-old son, Ashton; my wife and myself. As we were having the lesson, Ashton began to misbehave. After several warnings from his mother, he was sent to timeout in the bedroom just off the family room.

As the lesson continued, we soon heard the quiet, repentant voice of Ashton saying, "Mommy, please help me." She ignored him and told us to ignore him so he would learn his lesson. A few minutes later we heard, "Sean, please help me." He, too, didn't respond, following Ashton's mother's wishes.

Each family member's name was then called out one by one. With each innocent plea, our heartstrings were pulled, but we wanted to help Kellie make her point to her son. After the last plea, we heard no more for an extended period of time and figured he had given up. Then that sincere, faint voice pierced my ears with a plea I couldn't ignore: "Bishop, please help me."

Cortney Flynn

West Valley City