Little Brother has come to the conclusion that one of the priests at our church is Jesus.
He also thinks that Father lives in the church, but that's another story--and a completely normal thing for a three-year-old.
Father has always greeted Little Brother wherever he sees him, with a smile and a handshake. He has welcomed him in church, given him a quick blessing in the Communion line, and laughed when he escaped the pew one weekday, made a break for the altar and sat down quietly next to Big Brother, who was an altar server during that Mass. He has praised Little Brother for "helping" the altar servers by following them to the Sacristy after Mass on Sundays, and carrying the finger towels for them.
Father thinks it's funny that Little Brother considers him to be Jesus, and he has asked for his "little disciple" when he's seen me without my small companion.
I think Little Brother has a wonderful gift--the kind of gift that we lose as we get older, and more cynical, and have been let down a time or three. But it's a gift that we all can have, if we let ourselves have it: the gift of seeing Jesus in others.