My daughter cracks me up.
She is eight years old and sometimes gets mixed up about things, but just blusters her way through. Lately she has been getting Catholicism and Star Trek confused. Sometimes she gives me the Vulcan hand greeting — palm up, fingers splayed — lowers her voice to a deep gravely tone and says, “Peace be with you, Daddy.”
I hate spoilers. I was at a church social right after the last Harry Potter book came out. Everyone knew they had killed off a main character, but nobody knew who it was. I humiliated myself and my family by scowling at one of the church ladies who couldn’t resist spoiling the book. I expect more from church ladies.
Here is my favorite spoiler story: We were taking my daughter, who was 4 years old at the time, to a Christmas play and we had one of her friends in the car. My wife and I had just started attending Catholic church that year and my daughter was enjoying a mild surge of curiosity about Jesus. We played up the idea that Christmas was baby Jesus’ birthday and got a little nativity scene for the house. From the back seat, I heard my daughter start humming a little Christian tune, “Jesus Loves Me.”
Then I heard her little friend say this: “Jesus? He’s dead. They stuck pins in his feet and hands and killed him.”
