It’s 8:30, and I’m tucking Audrey in bed.
Me: No, no more talking. I need to pray for you because it’s past your bedtime.
Audrey: What you say?
Me, enunciating clearly: It’s past your bedtime. Your bedtime has passed.
Audrey, emphatically: No. It’s not ‘past your bedtime.’ It’s Pastor Bedtime.
Me, laughing: Pastor Bedtime??
Audrey, in all seriousness: Yes. Pastor Bedtime. Like Pastor Dennis.