September 14, 2006
I believe I’ll have another martini
I like to ask about what the boys have done in school each day, not so much because I’m a good mother or a concerned parent but because nothing is more fun than spending all of the dinner hour (or the dinner quarter hour, really) having BOTH children stare vacantly and say, “I need to think about it.” Really, it makes all that tuition money seem well spent.
I’ve learned, in the past two years, that specific questions (”Did you have music today? Did you sing a song? What song did you sing?”) are more effective than a general “What did you do today?” (Answer: “I don’t remember.” Or my favorite: “We had recess!” Argh.) This year I know more about the boys’ days than I ever have before and can ask them REALLY specific questions, which doesn’t necessarily lead to more specific answers, but does give them a chance to say “How do you KNOW THAT?” every single night.
Last night, I took the boys out to dinner, since Wade is out of town and god forbid I COOK for just those kids. While we were waiting for our food, I decided to ask about school, because why not? Let’s get it over with before we’re eating. We determined that Charlie had music and Henry had computers, and that they sit with different friends each day at lunch and that yelling “TIC TAC TOE! I WIN AGAIN!” in a restaurant isn’t really a good idea.
And then I had to go and ask Charlie about his religion class.
Charlie has religion a couple of times a week; I’m still not sure if it’s once or twice. The most I’ve gleaned about his religion class so far is that ALL of the Pre-K kids (two classes) have religion TOGETHER, which makes me think that we should start praying for the religion teacher.
So I say, “Charlie, did you have religion today?” And he says, “Yes we did!” And I say, “What are you talking about in your religion class?” And he says “We’re talking about SHARING!” And I say, “Sharing is a nice thing to talk about.” And he says, “Yes, today we talked about what we CAN and CANNOT share.”
Interesting. And perhaps a little unnerving.
He went on: “We CAN share our toys, but we CAN’T share our lunches, because we MIGHT share some germs.”
I say, “Oooh!” because I’m just relieved that they weren’t talking about sharing their private parts. “Well, that sounds like a good thing to remember.”
Charlie says, “Yes. It is.”
Henry says, “What’s religion?”
I knew I should have ordered something stronger than iced tea.
I take a deep breath and say, “Well, buddy, religion is people’s beliefs about God. Different people believe different things about God, and religion is the study of what people believe.”
“Yeah,” Charlie says, “Like God. God is everywhere, but he’s INVISIBLE. Why is God invisible, Mama?”
“Uhhhh . . . “
“Mama!” Charlie says. “Is God dead?”
I hope not, because I’m starting to pray that a martini will appear in front of me, pronto.
“Mama! Is GOD DEAD?”
“Uh, no buddy, God isn’t dead. But the author is.”
“What?”
“Nothing. No, God isn’t dead.”
“Then how is God invisible?”
“Uhhh . . . . “
“SOMEBODY is dead,” Charlie insists.
“Yes,” I say. “Jesus. Jesus died.” Please don’t let them ask how Jesus died, please please please . . .
Henry perks up. “He did? Why?” Phew.
“Christians believe that Jesus died to make up for all the bad things that the rest of us do.”
“Bad things WE do?” Charlie asks, his eyes huge.
“Yes,” Henry says. “BAD THINGS WE DO.”
“No,” I say, “Not exactly. You all don’t really do bad things, you just don’t always make good choices.”
“Yeah,” Henry says sadly, “Like today at school, I made some bad choices.” He did, and I already knew about it, and I didn’t really think we needed to rehash it at the dinner table, so I said, “Yes, you did, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you a boy who needs to make better choices tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says. He takes a bite of bread and chews thoughtfully and says, “So religion is what you believe, right?”
“Right.”
He chews some more. “WHAT you believe?”
Charlie is making me play tic tac toe and through the din of “I’ll be X! I drew an X! Look at my X, Mama! I’ll draw another X! TIC TAC TOE I WIN AGAIN!” I can’t really tell what Henry is getting at. “Henry, are you asking what I believe?”
“No,” he says. “I was asking if religion is WHAT people believe.” He eats some more bread and then says, “But what DO you believe?”
“Well, buddy, um . . . I believe . . . phew. I believe that . . . “
“Dinner’s here!” Charlie announces happily, and sure enough, there’s our server with pasta and pizza and chicken nuggets and more milk and ketchup and by the time everything is cut up and divided and everyone has a napkin and a fork but NO KNIFE because that’s dangerous! the boys seem to have forgotten about the whole question of belief.
Thank God.
Posted by Susan @ 12:15 pm • Uncategorized
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September 14th, 2006 at 1:20 pm, Jenorama Says:
I am still laughing about “No, but the author is.”
I was expecting a reference to Nietzche, but Roland Barthes will do.
Nerd.
September 14th, 2006 at 1:29 pm, Liz Says:
I held my breath through that whole post. Whew! You just write so enthusiastically! ha ha… always enjoyable.
September 14th, 2006 at 2:13 pm, bubandpie Says:
What Jenorama said - The Death of the Author was a very nice touch.
(I also liked the “SOMEBODY’S DEAD!” part.)
September 14th, 2006 at 2:27 pm, Velma Says:
I recently had a similarly meandering conversation about belief and religion with my daughter. It ended with her declaring, “I think I’ll believe in that lady with the six arms.”
September 14th, 2006 at 2:59 pm, Candace Says:
Heh. We’ve had those conversations. A couple years ago, Christopher believed in God. Now, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know why, he just doesn’t. And he’s glad we don’t go to church because, and these are his exact words, “It would really cut into my fun time.”
Indeed it would, son. Indeed it would.
September 14th, 2006 at 3:08 pm, MJ Says:
As a lapsed Catholic married to an atheist, I dread these conversations with my children. Strangely, just before I read this my children unwrapped a nativity set and thought we should put out the “gnomes” to welcome my book club! Guess I need to do a little more work on this front. I think I’ll borrow a couple of your lines. Okay?
September 14th, 2006 at 3:09 pm, lynsalyns Says:
I was a nanny in college for a very lovely, very religious family. The four-year-old once asked me who God was. I will never forget the fear that took me over! I know Emmie will have one million questions about this - I’ll leave it to her daddy.
September 14th, 2006 at 3:40 pm, M&Co. Says:
My kids have had a very diverse religious education; we’ve gone to the Nice Catholic School, we’ve gone to the Nice Jewish School and we’ve gone to the Nice Presbyterian School. The Presbyterians, bar none, had the best religion class of any of them. Last year the BoyChild came home saying stuff like, “Jesus died, but he came back alive! Wouldn’t that be a neat thing to do?”
September 14th, 2006 at 4:54 pm, Melissa Says:
You know, this one might come up again, what with Charlie in religion class and all. Unless maybe you stop asking about their day. That could work.
And what’s with dad being out of town for the big questions? I’m not saying he’s got all the answers, but at least you could be united in your deflection.
September 14th, 2006 at 5:32 pm, ieatcrayonz Says:
That’s quite the philosophical discussion. I still giggle every time I think about you trying to field questions from two kids attending schools with different beliefs. Three beliefs in one household. Whew, I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
My word, woman.
September 14th, 2006 at 8:19 pm, Chilihead2 Says:
There are so many funny moments in there…It could have all been avoided if the martini had appeared with dinner.
September 15th, 2006 at 9:01 am, Granny Says:
It’s much easier with “Where did you go?” Out. “What did you do?” Nothing.
I usually say people believe many different things and you can decide when you’re older.
Which for us means a couple of years when they decide if they want to be confirmed.
Luckily my church is very laid back about almost everything. They have lots of choices or they can go with none of the above. No real pressure from me or the church.
Dobson and Wildmon both are sure my entire denomination is going to hell. We must be doing something right.
September 15th, 2006 at 9:28 am, Editor's Corner Says:
Try living in a country with 97% Muslims, but married to a Marxist (read: flaming atheist), and then you not only are not Christian like everyone just assumes you must be, but not too long ago found out you were not raised vague-Hippy-New-Age-atheist likey you always thought but actually quite literally Zen Buddhist…now try to explain this to your kid so she can answer to her friends at schoool when they ask her what religion she is ‘cuz her mommy’s a foreigner…
September 15th, 2006 at 10:33 am, Lauren Says:
Oh, gosh. I feel your dread!!
September 15th, 2006 at 2:41 pm, mamatulip Says:
You handled that so well — I’m taking notes, because I’ll need ‘em when my kids start asking me these kinds of questions.
September 15th, 2006 at 8:18 pm, slackermommy Says:
You’re a good mom!
This post reminds me of a funny story about my four year old son.
My son whined when my hubby told him to get ready for church. He told my hubby,”How about we go in say thank you God and leave?”
September 18th, 2006 at 10:56 am, Laura Says:
The first time G was in church was for my adult friend’s baptism, confirmation and first communion (she was converting) and she was totally fascinated. She asked me if the altar was a “big time out bench.” Then she pointed to the picture of Jesus and wanted to know who he was. My Mom said he was Jesus, and he was everywhere. My very literal ASD child immediately freaked out.
“NO he’s not! He is NOT in our house! WHAT do you mean he is everywhere?” I assured her that he was not in our house, but that he was a nice guy and we would be happy to let him in. She was much relieved.