It’s pre-summer here, and the days are starting earlier, so the boys are starting earlier, which means, hell, if we’re up, we might as well go to church.
So the other day I leaned over the rail and called to Evan.
Me: Go get dressed! We’re going to church!
Evan: If we’re going to church, I’m going to wear this!
He spread out his arms, so that I could feast my eyes on his outfit. A blue hooded-towel to resemble a penguin and black pajama pants with skulls and crossbones. I cocked an eyebrow. Pssht.
Me: That’s fine! God doesn’t care what you wear! Do you care?
I turned and walked into my room to finish getting ready. I heard someone stomping up the stairs.
Round 1: Winner: Fae!
I placed a plate with biscuits and a glass of milk on the table in front of each boy. I drank my shake.
Evan took a bite of biscuit, lost in thought. Then he leaned forward on his elbows.
Evan: Mommy. You know I don’t believe in the same things you do.
I cocked an eyebrow.
Me: That’s fine. As long as you made a thoughtful decision, that’s perfectly fine.
Evan: I may not be Catholic.
Me: And that’s ok. We all need to question our faith to find our path. “The opposite of faith is not doubt.” It is good to doubt and question. But you’re still going to church.
Evan sat back in his rear and ate his biscuit.
Point. Game. Set. And match.
Round 2: Winner: Fae!
Until next Sunday. Or until I make him do stuff for religious class. Or until I make him do Cub Scout stuff. Or homework.