"I like some things about God, and other things I don't like," Luke told me last Sunday, after I informed him we wouldn't be going to Church due to the 20 inches of snow that had fallen the day before.
"Oh, really," I said casually. Luke has a radar for hot-button issues, so I always try to play it cool with him.
"Yah," Luke went on, which was what I had been hoping for with my noncommittal answer. "I like that I get to go to heaven to cuddle Dock Ock," said Luke, speaking of his dead guinea pig. "But I don't like sitting still and being quiet in church."
* * * * *
"Sometimes we do bad things, but God loves us anyway," Henry informs me, out of the blue.
"Yes, Henry, God loves us very, very much," I answered.
"Up to here, Henry!" Luke said, stretching his arms us as high as he could reach. Then, taking his "good older brother tone" that he takes on rare occasions, Luke continued. "God is like our Daddy. Isn't that cool, Henry?"
Henry agreed, as he always does with Luke.
"And God is like our mommy!" Luke went on. "God is our Daddy and our Mommy. And he made us and gave us to Ser and Craig."
* * * * *
There was a dead squirrel in our path a few days ago, causing a great deal of curiosity in and excitement for the boys. And then the next morning, strangely, there were two more dead squirrels in the street right by the path where we found the first. Within the hour, they had been smashed and bloodied by passing cars. This pushed the boys into dead squirrel obsession.
"This playdough is squirrels," Henry said, breaking a hunk of playdough into smaller pieces. He threw it on the floor. "Now you drive and make squirrels bloody." So I walked over the playdough. "Now let's play again!" said Henry.
Also, Henry spent the morning scouting squirrels, both from our window and our front porch, and each time he saw one, he asked, "That squirrel alive? That squirrel not bloody?"
Later in the afternoon they wanted to visit the non-smashed squirrel, and so I puttered around the yard while they looked at it. They were under strict orders not to touch the squirrel, so they just talked to it.
"Squirrel?" Henry asked, "You dead? Why your eyes open?"
And Luke, in a crooning voice, said "Hey cute little squirrel. I'm sorry you died. I wish I could pet you. But you are in heaven now. Can you say hi to Doc Ock for me?"
"Oh, really," I said casually. Luke has a radar for hot-button issues, so I always try to play it cool with him.
"Yah," Luke went on, which was what I had been hoping for with my noncommittal answer. "I like that I get to go to heaven to cuddle Dock Ock," said Luke, speaking of his dead guinea pig. "But I don't like sitting still and being quiet in church."
* * * * *
"Sometimes we do bad things, but God loves us anyway," Henry informs me, out of the blue.
"Yes, Henry, God loves us very, very much," I answered.
"Up to here, Henry!" Luke said, stretching his arms us as high as he could reach. Then, taking his "good older brother tone" that he takes on rare occasions, Luke continued. "God is like our Daddy. Isn't that cool, Henry?"
Henry agreed, as he always does with Luke.
"And God is like our mommy!" Luke went on. "God is our Daddy and our Mommy. And he made us and gave us to Ser and Craig."
* * * * *
There was a dead squirrel in our path a few days ago, causing a great deal of curiosity in and excitement for the boys. And then the next morning, strangely, there were two more dead squirrels in the street right by the path where we found the first. Within the hour, they had been smashed and bloodied by passing cars. This pushed the boys into dead squirrel obsession.
"This playdough is squirrels," Henry said, breaking a hunk of playdough into smaller pieces. He threw it on the floor. "Now you drive and make squirrels bloody." So I walked over the playdough. "Now let's play again!" said Henry.
Also, Henry spent the morning scouting squirrels, both from our window and our front porch, and each time he saw one, he asked, "That squirrel alive? That squirrel not bloody?"
Later in the afternoon they wanted to visit the non-smashed squirrel, and so I puttered around the yard while they looked at it. They were under strict orders not to touch the squirrel, so they just talked to it.
"Squirrel?" Henry asked, "You dead? Why your eyes open?"
And Luke, in a crooning voice, said "Hey cute little squirrel. I'm sorry you died. I wish I could pet you. But you are in heaven now. Can you say hi to Doc Ock for me?"
7 comments:
Oh Ser, beautiful! You've totally inspired me. Perhaps it is time for me to post again . . .
You're breaking my heart ... absolutely beautiful. I'm going to ask my guardian angel to introduce Cirrus to Doc Ock!
oh, and I'm in complete agreement w/Luke on the likes and dislikes God list. Now that I'm not in the choir and feel somewhat exposed since we're such a small group, I HAVE to stand still. I dislike it very much.
Too funny!
Hopefully I won't be posting about dead chicks soon! At least they didn't die in your yard - then you would be having squirrel funerals.
Oh, this post was gorgeous.
interesting post. I would love to follow you on twitter. By the way, did you learn that some chinese hacker had busted twitter yesterday again.
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