I tried to explain that this wasn't a book about his baby brother, Isaiah, but his face told me he thought differently. I then focused on something in the bible he could connect his own name to as I reminded him about the stories of Elijah being fed by ravens, and calling down fire from heaven, and running a race down a mountainside… you know… cool stuff that a four year-old boy should just love. But, oh no. My Elijah just wilted over the footstool and slithered to the floor, still convinced that he should have his own book in the bible if Baby Brother had one.
He then went through our entire family lineage one-by-one asking if there was a book of grandpa, or a book of mommy, etc. He even asked me, "Is there a book of you?" I patiently answered 'no' to each inquiry until the shocking truth finally sunk in, and he exclaimed,
"What!! There's no book of ME?!"
I honestly don't know what was funnier, the stunned look on his face, or the transparent innocence in the way he phrased this disheartening news. That's right, Little Buddy, when it comes to God's Word, there's no book of you… or me.