As I have mentioned before, we have a very long journey home at the end of the school day and plenty of time, therefore, to talk (which is precisely why I don't mind the length of the journey!)
"There are three words, Mummy, aren't there?" announced Littlest, shortly after I had strapped her into her car seat.
"Well, yes, probably," say I, starting the engine, "but that depends on what three words you are talking about."
"Two of them begin with an 'a'. They're for what you believe in. You know?"
"Eh, Christian, agnostic and atheist?" I hesitate, and correct myself, "It could be any religion, it doesn't have to be Christian."
"Yes! That's right! Do I have to be one of them?"
"No ... do you know what they mean?" She does. And the conversation leaps onto how can you believe in something you can't see, how no-one has ever proved that God actually does exist and, in her own words - what worries her having decided that she is "half way between Christian and agnostic, but a bit nearer to agnostic" - "If I don't believe in God, will he still love me?"
Having spent almost the entire journey veering to and fro along the christian/agnostic gradient, we suddenly found ourselves on a subject where Littlest is most definitely in the camp of believers: the tooth fairy and the urgent notification that wobbliness of the toothy kind is increasing and a visit will soon be required.
What about believing in something you can't see?
"Don't be silly, Mummy! She couldn't leave money under my pillow if she didn't exist, could she?"
"There are three words, Mummy, aren't there?" announced Littlest, shortly after I had strapped her into her car seat.
"Well, yes, probably," say I, starting the engine, "but that depends on what three words you are talking about."
"Two of them begin with an 'a'. They're for what you believe in. You know?"
"Eh, Christian, agnostic and atheist?" I hesitate, and correct myself, "It could be any religion, it doesn't have to be Christian."
"Yes! That's right! Do I have to be one of them?"
"No ... do you know what they mean?" She does. And the conversation leaps onto how can you believe in something you can't see, how no-one has ever proved that God actually does exist and, in her own words - what worries her having decided that she is "half way between Christian and agnostic, but a bit nearer to agnostic" - "If I don't believe in God, will he still love me?"
Having spent almost the entire journey veering to and fro along the christian/agnostic gradient, we suddenly found ourselves on a subject where Littlest is most definitely in the camp of believers: the tooth fairy and the urgent notification that wobbliness of the toothy kind is increasing and a visit will soon be required.
What about believing in something you can't see?
"Don't be silly, Mummy! She couldn't leave money under my pillow if she didn't exist, could she?"
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