I remember reading an interview with Daniel Handler, the author of A Series of Unfortunate Events, where he talked about how he and his wife were atheists, and then mentioned they sent their son to synagogue. When the reporter asked why they sent their son somewhere to learn about a God they didn’t themselves believe in, he said something to the effect of, “We want to give our son the opportunity to reject the same religious tenants we did.”
And for reasons I cannot remember now that seemed like an appropriate story to tell before telling this other story about John praying yesterday morning. We started doing a short family devotional a few weeks ago that is largely centered around attempting have the boys become more familiar with some of the liturgical elements of our church service, like the gloria patri and the Apostles’ Creed. John surprised us yesterday morning by saying most of the Apostles’ Creed along with us. And then at the end when it was my turn to pray, I had just taken a bite of cereal (one of the benefits of family worship over Sunday worship is getting to glorify God while eating bran flakes) so John took it upon himself to fill in for me.
Dear God. Tank you for Daddy and Mama and John and James. Be wif Daddy at work. Be wif Mama… what you doing to-day, Mama?
Me: Mama is going to school.
John: Be wif Mama at school. Be wif John at my school. THE END.
My friend Julie pointed me to a Maureen Dowd column from yesterday about how children make women less happy. And I suppose that’s technically true if happiness is only measured in terms of pure pleasure. Just looking at what having children has done to my sleep schedule is a KO against happiness in the form of sleeping in. But it’s these moments that make it all worth it.
Tank you. Tank you very much.