“Do you believe in God?”

On the way to Dharma yesterday, I was listening to Howard University’s gospel radio program while Mae read her chemistry book in the back seat. I don’t remember exactly what song was on when Mae asked “What is this song about?” I told her it was a gospel song, and the singer was giving thanks for all that he had been given. Mae asked me, “Do you believe in God?”

I knew she was going to bring the topic back at some point because she was dissatisfied with the response I gave when she asked a few weeks ago. When I picked her up from after care that day, she was sitting on the side of the playground with a scowl on her face. The teacher sent her there to calm herself after a heated discussion with some little girls about the existence of God. Mae had called God “stupid” and attempted to explain in scientific terms how she could prove that God does not exist. The teacher acknowledged that Mae is entitled to her own opinion; the problem, she said, was that Mae was yelling in the kids’ faces and wouldn’t stop. On the way home, Mae explained her perspective to me. I couldn’t tell if she had read somewhere about evolution and creation, or what was the source of her conclusion. She ended with, “And that proves that God doesn’t exist, right?”

Ayiyi. I tried to explain tolerance, and a person’s right to believe as they wish. I told her that she can share her opinions if others are interested, and that she should listen to theirs. I told her that calling God stupid is offensive to some and she has to learn to disagree respectfully, or just keep her opinions to herself.

She was disappointed that I didn’t see the obvious logic of her position. (The word “obviously” was sprinkled throughout her explanation.) I think she was even more disappointed that I wasn’t answering her question directly.

So, yesterday in the car, I repeated what I’d said about people having different beliefs and the need to respect differences. I told her that she can no more disprove God to someone who believes than someone can convince her that God exists. She went into her quiet, contemplative mode and we went into the meditation center. For her, this type of contemplation means she’s re-loading, trying to think of another way to persuade or undo me.

After Dharma, Mae asked “Are Buddhas gods? If so, I may have to stop going to Dharma. That would be too bad because I like Dharma.” I told her that Buddhas were not gods, but real people. Silence. Reloading.

I like that Mae is inquisitive and critical. I was too at her age, minus the yelling in people’s faces. I only hope that she learns to manage her mouth sooner than later. I plan to continue answering her questions, or at least the faith-based ones, indirectly or not at all so that she learns to respect boundaries. And, too, the whole existence debate wore me out during my college and graduate school years. I have no interest in re-living those conversations, especially with a zealous 8-year old who, though bright, lacks the life experience to have a peaceful disagreement and genuine dialogue about a sensitive, sometimes divisive topic. My intent is to make the point that some people view and treat religion as a private issue, precisely so they won’t be badgered by people who believe otherwise.

The Flip Side

When I picked up Jay from school today, I asked him one of my typical questions, “Tell me something good that happened today.”  He said, “Well, N__ wasn’t that bad to me today.”  Jay has been complaining about this classmate N for a few months. N has some behavioral issues that, unfortunately for all, have become well-known among the families and earned him a label as a “hitter.”  I previously posted that I feel bad for him and his parents because I can empathize with being the parent who has to stay behind at pick-up to hear about all the sad choices your kid made that day.  Mae set us up for many such conversations, and the potential lurks on a daily basis.

I told Jay that N not treating him so bad today isn’t really a good thing and he can measure his day by things not having to do with N. He told me in a reassuring voice that he thinks about other things too. So, I asked him to tell me another something good that happened.

“Well, N__ didn’t push me too hard with his block.”

Huh?  I asked, “What’s good about that?”

“What was good about it was that it didn’t actually hurt.”

This is one post I hope Hubby doesn’t read.  I’m surely not going to tell him voluntarily about this conversation.  He and Jay talked earlier this week about N.  Hubby told Jay to hit N back.  I can’t co-sign that, not at this age.  I disagree for a number of reasons, all of which Hubby and I talked through later that night.  Hubby made some good points; he just wants his son to stand up for himself.  I want the same thing, and think Jay can do it in a different, more effective and empowering way.  I also want N to learn better social skills almost as much as I wanted the same for Mae at that age three or four years ago.   I want Jay to tell N how to be a better friend, and model this behavior for him.  I want him to walk away if N becomes mean or hurtful and play with other kids and tell the teacher.  I want Jay to withhold his friendship from N until N earns it.

I took another shot with Jay.

“What else was good about today?”

He said, “S[__] was the line leader and she’s good at it.”

See, this is one of the things I love about this boy. He has a good heart.  He genuinely and consistently thinks of others and their happiness.

Still, I wanted to see if I could get him to focus on himself.  I asked if there was anything else he liked about the day.

“We got to play in the sandbox today.”

“Cool.  So, you had fun in the sandbox?”

“Well, I didn’t play in it.  I played on the slide.”

And, this gets to why I didn’t press Hubby about the wisdom or lack of wisdom in telling Jay to hit N back.  He’s a good kid and he cares deeply about others.  He’ll forgive and help before he hurts.

Just yesterday, as a follow-up to the conversation that Hubby and I had, I called Jay’s preschool teacher to try to gain insight on how she and the staff are handling N’s behavior.  Jay had told me the day before how N threw a Lego at him that landed on his cheek.  Jay said that N’s mom had to pick him up early because of this.  I told Ms. M — and I sincerely believe — that I trust she and the staff are working with N to help him learn to make better choices in the same way that they worked with Mae.  I also offered myself as a resource for N’s mom and asked Ms. M to feel free to give her my number.  I know from my own experience that it is frustrating and lonesome to be That Mom.  Maybe she’ll call, maybe she won’t.  In either case, I hope she seeks and receives the support she and N need.

In the long run, I think Jay will be fine.  I have seen him stand up for himself repeatedly with his sister, and she’s no joke.  While I dislike how N treats Jay and no doubt other classmates, I believe that N will grow and improve.  I also believe that Jay will become more discerning and give less attention to N.

In the meantime, I pray that Mae never sees or even hears about N mistreating Jay.  I could see her excusing herself from 2nd grade recess and going to hem N up.

“Mothers Are Not That Bad”

That lovely image to the left is a “communiputer,” a device conceptualized and named by Mae.  I helped her and Jay make them this weekend.  They were so excited by these little pieces of colored cardboard decorated with stickers left over from a yard sale and various birthday parties.  I wonder why we even bother with buying toys.  The communiputer is better apparently than a smart phone; it can help clean up the environment and do all kinds of “futuristic” things.   Jay has asked that our next project be making hobby horses from orange juice cartons, and he roped Hubby into buying two cartons on Saturday that we’re supposed to drink up before the weekend.

They can be so endearing when they are not having meltdowns and demanding the world on a platter.

On Saturday, we met up with two families we’ve known for a while for laser tag and dinner.  I tip my hat to Hubby for being the only dad in the group.  I was grateful he could be there because I thought Jay would be unwilling to try laser tag.  I told Hubby he could opt out of dinner afterwards.  Being the smarty-pants that he is, he said, “Despite what I’ve heard, mothers are not that bad.  I can tolerate them.”  Haha.  The other two moms are women we’ve known since Mae was three months old.  Almost eight years ago, our daughters (first-borns followed by brothers later) started daycare during the same week.  We were all anxious new moms, dreading the return to work and trying to figure out how we were going to get it all done.  We don’t see each other as often as we used to (there are actually six of us families that have stayed in touch, and with fewer birthday parties and various extracurricular activities, getting together all at once is pretty difficult), but it’s always a good time.  Jay was reluctant about laser tag at first; he warmed up to it, probably shortly after getting his hands on the weapon.  Dinner was wild with six kids in one booth adjacent to us adults.  Somehow, they managed and it wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be.

On Sunday, the kids and I went to a science and engineering festival in downtown Washington, DC.  We met up with two of Mae’s classmates and a nine-year old cousin whose mom is an engineer.  Mae was in her zone and probably could have stayed all day.  My boy the homebody did not ask even once to leave.  It’s so awesome to see kids excited about science, engineering, technology, etc.   After spending a few hours in the convention center, we walked to Chinatown for a late lunch and ice cream.  

The women in black and white are about to run into the intersection where an "officiant" will marry them while the man in the bridal gown plays "Here Comes the Bride" on his sax.

It was beautiful weather wise, so much so that there was a group of people marrying random couples in the intersection of 7th and H Streets.  Yes, literally, in the intersection between traffic light changes.  Mae and her little cousin were impromptu flower girls for one of the couples.  The newlyweds ran back to the street corner, and the girls threw handfuls of petals at them.  Then, the couple was offered a piece of cake from a paper plate on the ground.  The kids were more tickled than confused.  Me, I was just confused.

Mae had an eye exam on Saturday afternoon.  I noticed last week that she couldn’t see words on the TV screen while sitting across the room.  This was bound to happen, as we have so many eyeglass wearers in the family, including me and Hubby.  The doctor asked Mae to read the first image of letters he beamed onto the wall.  Mae said, “I don’t see anything.”  She said it as if she thought the doctor was playing a joke on her.  I was like, “Wow.”  So, she’s moderately nearsighted and eyeglasses are on order.

So, we’re into the work and school week.  I’m already looking forward to the weekend, though I’m hoping to stay in and lay low for this one.  We’ll see.