For those keeping track at home, we’re beginning the second full week of summer vacation, complete with triple-digit temperatures which serve as a barometer of how loud the “I’m bored” whining will get.
And when they’re not whining, they’re asking things. Lots of things. Questions I was not aware I was going to get to answer this summer.
Upon the sad diagnosis of a beloved pet:
“Mom, when IS he going to die?”
“Can we get another dog?”
“It just feels like God hates me and what did I ever do to him?”
You see how they do that? Get me off-guard with the inappropriate inquiries and then deliver the sucker punch to the gut?
Of course, I try to give as measured, reasonable responses as I can about how even though God is loving and just, we live in a fallen world where sad things still happen. And we have deep theological debates about the nature of free will versus the question of why an omnipotent God allows the suffering of the innocent.
Unless the whining has been going on all morning. Then I just say “God is mad at you about a lot of things. But He told me He would let the dog live if you cleaned your room every morning without being asked and stopped fighting with your brother over the Wii. It’s all on you.”
No, of course I don’t say that. I’m kidding.
I tell them it’s because Daddy votes Republican.
Hahaha. Kidding again. Maybe.
When we aren’t tackling theology, we are tackling sex ed. Because, as my regular readers reader knows, the Jack Russell Terrier went into heat last week. And even though the corgis are both fixed and one of them is terminally ill, hope springs eternal. So one recent morning, I got this round of questions.
“Why are Tutter and Bailey stuck together?”
“If Tutter can’t make puppies, why is he doing that?”
And of course… the question of the hour: “Do you and Dad get stuck?”
I answered them all without my head exploding. Like this: 1) In the animal kingdom, that is how the dominant male ensures he will be the one to father the babies, by making sure no other males are also trying to get the female pregnant. 2) Because he and Bailey apparently ran off to Vegas and got married without telling us and 3) Would you like to go get some ice cream?
So as you can see, my question-answering skills are getting totally awesome. And you know, as much as I enjoy my children’s excellent inquiries, I’m a giver. Why should they get all my expertise?
So how about if *you* fire off some questions? Surely there’s some issue I can help you with. You can post it in the comments or email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org.
What’s that? You want to know if this is a ploy to get some blog topics and comments? Uh, would you like to go get some ice cream?
Also, you know that red button over there? You should lick on it and vote for me every day. Wait, I mean “click” on it. Although licking is fine if that’s what you do. I don’t judge. Either way, you should vote for me. If you do, God will make it cool off in San Antonio. No, really. It’s all on you.