I've been driving the girls to school in the morning with me, because it's been cold waiting there for the bus, and we get a few more minutes to chat.
Mistake! That chatting part that is!
On Thursday morning, Nina was talking something, I don't remember what, and she pointed straight up and said, "That's where God lives." I pointed north and said, "Or maybe over that way?" and Nina said, "No, that's where Santa lives." And Maggie says, "Hmph, I don't believe in God."
Nice. A 5 -year-old atheist. Classy. A lifelong Catholic and Sunday school teacher, and I can't even get my kid to believe in God. Good think I'm not teaching her class this year!
Yesterday morning the conversation continued. At 7 am, not my best philosophical time, but you do what you can. We were driving on Dover Road, and she said,
"Why does God let people get injured?"
And I explained about free will, and how God wants us to be able to make our own decisions, even though sometimes that means getting hurt. And then she said,
"If God wants us to make our own choices, how come you're always telling me what to do?"
She didn't say it in a sweetly inquisitive voice like Nina would, either. It was an accusation. Basically, she was accusing me of going against God's will. Like I'm the devil's mignon or something!
Unbelievable. I said something about it being my job to keep her safe and teach her things, but that when she's an adult she'll be able to make all of her own decisions.
I give up. I'm going to start sending her to the Baptist church and let them deal with her. Ha!