A little boy named Tommy went to church with his grandma every Sunday.

One day, Grandma told him it was time to make his first confession.
She explained, “You go into that little booth, tell the priest your sins, and he’ll forgive you.”

Tommy was nervous but agreed.
He walked into the confessional, sat down, and the priest slid open the little window.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” Tommy whispered.The priest smiled kindly. “Go ahead, my son. What are your sins?”Tommy took a deep breath. “Well… I stole a pencil from school… I said a bad word… and I lied to my mom.”

The priest nodded. “That’s not too bad. Anything else?”

Tommy thought hard. “Umm… oh yeah! I threw my sister’s Barbie out the window and told her she ran away.”

The priest chuckled. “Anything else?”

Tommy scratched his head. “Oh! And last night, I put toothpaste on Grandpa’s dentures while he was sleeping.”

The priest tried not to laugh. “Alright, my son. Say three Hail Marys and try to be a better boy.”

Tommy nodded, feeling proud.

When he walked out of the booth, Grandma smiled and asked, “How did it go?”

Tommy grinned wide.

“Piece of cake, Grandma… but I don’t think that guy behind the screen knows half the stuff I’ve done!”His mother said she didn’t have enough money to buy him a new bike but suggested that if he wrote to Jesus promising to be a good boy in the future, then maybe Jesus might be willing to get him one.

So the boy started writing out a letter. ‘Dear Jesus, I promise to be good for one year…’

He crossed it out and wrote: ‘Dear Jesus, I promise to be good for one month.’

Still, he wasn’t happy, so he crossed it out and wrote: ‘Dear Jesus, I promise to be good for one week.’

His head spun, he tore up the paper, and went for a walk.

As he passed the local church, he noticed a nativity scene.

When nobody was looking, he grabbed the figure of Mary, hid it under his coat, and ran home.

There he composed a new letter. ‘Dear Jesus, if you ever want to see your mother again…’

A little boy was attending his first wedding.

After the service, his cousin asked him, “How many women can a man marry?”

“Sixteen,” the boy responded. His cousin was amazed that he had an answer so quickly.

“How do you know that?” “Easy,” the little boy said.

“All you have to do is add it up like the Bishop said: 4 better, 4 worse, 4 richer, 4 poorer.”