Not the Babysitter

Two women just came to my door to offer me a pamphlet about Jesus or God or the End Times or something along those lines. (I confess I just saw the cheesy sunset artwork and the word "Jesus Christ" and assumed they weren't selling cookies or candy bars.)

"We're atheists."

"Oh. Okay," said the younger woman.

The older one wasn't willing to give up so easily. "You've probably asked yourself the questions in this pamphlet!"

"Uh, maybe." I mean, it is possible that atheists think about god more often than many believers.

"Like, 'Why is there so much wickedness in the world?'"

"Actually, no. I've never asked myself that."

"Really?"

"I can honestly say that I never think about wickedness."

"Never?"

"Never."

After I shut the door the three-year-old who had been standing by my side throughout the exchange astutely observed, "That was not the babysitter."

*

Am I in the minority here? Do you ever think about wickedness?

photo courtesy PhillWatson, morgueFile

I Want an Oompa Loompa Now! Please.

Today is the two-year-old—now three-year-old's—birthday. Does this mean I have to be nice to her when she's whining like a leaf-blower, complaining like a defeated politician, and bossing like miniature royalty?

I wanted to do it myself. No, that cup is not my favorite. No, you take my diaper off. No, I will brush my teeth. Get me some nuts. I want some milk. No, Mama, you're not being polite.

I love her anyway. She's the best.