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“Brrrrr,” said my Mother, as we listened to the news headlines. “What a horrible story…and you know I have a fear of decapitation. It’s one of my ‘things’.”
“I know. But let’s face it, I betcha most people have a ‘thing’ about decapitation,” I retorted. “I mean, think about it: if we did a vox pop on the street tomorrow and said ‘Decapitation: like it or loathe it?’, I’m betting it’d turn out that the vast majority of sane individuals would respond ‘loathe it’.”
[Cue: stifled guffaws from my Father.]
“Yeah, I guess…” replied my Mother.
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“Is there any religion in your family?” asked the hospital receptionist in the style of the more common question to trip off the tongues of medical personnel: “Is there any <insert name of unpleasant inherited disease> in your family?”
“Good gracious, no!” I replied. No closet Islamic terrorist siblings or spooky Seventh Day Adventist second cousins to speak of!
Which brought me to mind of the fact that we will be taking our littlies to a church service this weekend (entirely unavoidable) and I’m realising that their only frame of reference for things religious is a recent viewing of ‘The Sound of Music’. Help!
[Tangentially, when The Daughter was asked by her grandmother to describe the plot of TSOM, she responded jauntily: "It's about a nun who turns into a mum!" Eat your heart out, Jonathon Woss.]
As I remarked to a friend this morning, I’d rather they quizzed me about sex than the likelihood of the existence of God.
