Growing up in church I knew the ins and outs of maneuvering around a building while my parents gabbed and visited post service.  I don't remember much under the age of 4, so I must have been kept close to my parent's watchful eyes.  I adopted a bit different approach parenting than the way I was parented.  You would think with an only child I would have been a bit more protective, less willing to give freedom.  Actually I was just kind of loosey-goosey when I look back on my parenting (what in the world was I thinking!!).  Maybe it came from my daughter's independent ways, or the fact that as an only child she was around adults a lot, but she was never afraid of doing things alone.  One Wednesday evening at church I told my daughter it was time for church to start and I would take her to class.  As I took her hand, she turned to me and said in a 2 year old voice, "I can take myself to class."  A small thought ran quickly through my head, but I was convinced by her pleading eyes and little voice that she could find her way to her classroom.  "Ok," I said to her, "You know where to go, right?  Go straight there and I will meet you outside your class when church is over."  She smiled wildly at me glowing with pride that she could do it herself.  To this day I can't remember what I did after that conversation with her.  A smart and wise mother would probably have stood there and watched to see if she was going in the right direction - towards the classroom.  No doubt as the events soon unfolded, I must not have been a smart nor wise parent that day.  A few minutes later I decided it was time to go into the sanctuary to the adult service.  Before I reached the sanctuary doors I heard Hannah's voice on the PA system followed by a loud response of laughter.  I was still sorting it out in my mind as I opened the doors to the sanctuary.  Before my eyes was my 2 year old boldly holding the microphone while talking and smiling at the sound of her own voice.  Where she had gone was definitely not to her classroom!  As I walked down the center aisle amidst laughter to remove the microphone from her hand, I think my face was a bit red.  I don't remember what conversation she and I had on the way to her class, but I remember clearly thinking I was neither too smart nor too wise in this thing called 2 year olds.  And, that my independent daughter loved the sound of her own voice.  She still does.