Anthropology and Religion

First of all, I am sorry posting has been so infrequent. Work has kept me pretty busy of late, and when I'm not working, I try to spend time with the kids (a common refrain with them these days is "Mommy, why are you working when you could be playing with us?") But my Mom sent an email today to nag -- oops! I mean "remind" me that it has been awhile, so here we go. (I'm just giving you a hard time, Mom.)

The kids have been coming with me to church on Sundays. I'm not sure why -- Daddy stays home and cleans up the kitchen and sometimes does yardwork, so maybe it seems the lesser of two evils. Anyway, sometimes Gwen will sing with me. Often Xavier needs to "use the potty" in the middle of the sermon (it's shocking how often he needs to do that, and equally amazing is how many other parents of four-year-olds I find waiting in the hall outside the bathroom at this time). But most of the time, the kids just sit and read magazines and focus on other things. They do like the children's sermon, though. This Sunday, Xavier made it from the back of the church to the front for the children's sermon before any of the other kids could get there; indeed, before the Pastor managed to get down from the pulpit. The Pastor said, "I think that's a new world record in the back-pew dash."

Anyway, Xavier asked Adam today, "How come we can't see God's grave?"

Adam replied, "You mean Jesus's grave? Well, no one is really sure where Jesus is buried."

Xavier asked, "Why not? And why can't we see him?"

Gwen piped up (with something she surely heard at Vacation Bible School), "We can't see God, Xavier, because he is invisible. He's like the wind."

"We can feel him, but we can't see him," Xavier agreed. Then, turning to Adam, he asked, "But why can't we see God?" Then, assuming a tone as if he were telling a joke, he answered his own question: "Because he is dead!"

Adam is not the most devout Christian (hence his absence at the service), but he did explain to Xavier that God is not mortal, so therefore he can't be dead. It'll be interesting if Xavier shares his controversial new views at preschool in the fall (which he has at the local Catholic church.)


The kids are pretty obsessed with jokes, although the fine line between "humor" and "mundane" (or, as we see above, "offensive") is a little beyond them. Still, we went to a birthday party for a neighbor yesterday, and we got to see all kinds of dynamics between the kids, a little anthropological study of its own. What we learned was:

• If a child is in a different grade in school from another child due to the age cutoff, he is considerably younger (practically a baby) even though he is only four months younger.
• If three girls are playing together, and one girl (Gwen) is excluded, it is because she "doesn't like to play princess."
• Brothers and sisters become shockingly uncool at a party setting.
• Boys are shockingly uncool at a party setting where two-thirds of the children attending are female, and yet ...
• The loudest, most obnoxious boy at the party is perceived to be of great wit, and ...
• The loudest, most obnoxious boy at the party is still the most irresistable to women ...
• ... especially the ones who think they are princesses.

Except when Gwen was clinging to me because she was the outsider, a good time was had by all. And I should add that even when the loudest, most obnoxious boy (Xavier) was shut out by the girls, he didn't dwell on it -- there was some important TV watching to catch up on, after all.

Ah, to be that confident.

Happy Dependents Day!

Whew! What a day! This morning I took the kids to a neighborhood parade (which meant racing around, trying to get their bikes and faces decorated before 9:00 am), then I actually took them to the parade, came home at 10:15 or so, just in time for a phone call from a neighbor inviting the kids to "Slip-and-Slide" in her yard. Back home, into the bathtub for the kids (because Gwen is allergic to grass.) Now it is late for lunch, but there is a parade downtown at 2:00 pm ... so lunch downtown, and on to the parade! Then back home, then a trip to Food Lion (with my assistant Xavier) ... tonight's agenda includes searching for fireflies and watching the fireworks from our front yard ... I'll need a vacation after today!

But it was all fun. The parade around our neighborhood was fun for all, but for my kids (who were near the front) it was way too short. ("Is that all?") Of course, my kids have also come to associate parades with candy-throwing, so despite my warnings that this parade would not be like that, they were a little disappointed.

I have lived here twenty years and have never gone to any of the town parades ... but I did today. We go to the Fourth of July parade in Reedville (where my parents live, a very small town) every year, and our (much larger) town's parade is pretty much the same, except a lot longer. Although there was candy-tossing and the kids enjoyed that a lot, by the end of the parade, I was tired of waving, Xav looked about to fall asleep, and even Gwen looked a little tired.

I looked up and saw that at the end of the lengthy line of emergency vehicles that were passing, the policemen were starting to reopen Main Street behind them. "Look, guys!" I said (although they were surely deaf by now from all the sirens), "The parade is over!"

Gwen looked relieved, but Xavier suddenly perked up and leapt to his feet. "Mommy! Mommy! Look!" he cried, pointing. Behind the emergency vehicles was a Street Sweeper machine, cleaning up leftover candy. "It's a street sweeper! It's a street sweeper!" he screamed happily, jumping up and down.

For him, it was by far the most exciting part of the parade.


Well, I have to go. Gwen just finished supper, and she has just informed me that it is time to "catch fireflies and fireworks." Hopefully, she means we are going to watch the latter.

Drat! Where did June go?

I meant to get at least three postings in June. Oh well.

The kids and I called Grammy (my Mom) on her birthday on Friday. I took a day off to spend with the kids, so we called in the morning, forgetting (of course) that Mom might actually be working. Gwen sang "Happy Birthday" to you, and had a pleasant chat with her Grammy. Xavier started off on the right foot: "Happy Birthday to you ... um ... (starting over) Happy Birthday to you -- cha! cha! cha! You - uh -- you -- uh, (starting over) Happy Birthday to you -- cha! cha! cha! You, uh, you ..."

It suddenly occurred to me that he was trying to remember the less flattering lyrics to this song (which I believe his sweet, charming sister taught him): Happy birthday to you, You live in a zoo, You smell like a monkey, You look like one too. Fortunately, he lost interest before he got the hang of it and ended the conversation with a wild squeal and ran off.

Mom, now that the truth is out, please don't take offense. We hope you had a wonderful birthday and official retirement day!


Thanks to the train recall, Xavier suddenly has a renewed interest in all things Island of Sodor. Poor Gwen spends hours enduring the antics of that train-smashing wonder, Hurricane Xavier. And I do mean endure -- it is not enough that she play with him, he dictates the plot in its entirety:

Xavier: Donald says, "Get out of my way!" And you said, you said, you said, "But I want to go that way!"

Gwen: "But I want to go that way."

Xavier: Okay, now you drive over here, and you said, you said, you said, "See, I'm going that way!"

Gwen: "See, I'm going that way!"

Needless to day, Gwen can only endure so much of this before she throws her hands up and goes off to do something else. Xavier always cries as if the world has ended, unable to realize that, really, he has been playing by himself all along.



I've also been trying to make the kids more aware of the environment and being "eco-friendly." When we went to the bookstore the other day, I told the kids they could each pick out a toy. Xavier picked out the Thomas the Tank Engine "Recycling Cars" because, as he put it, "They are good for the environment." Well, as much as a toy made out of plastic and wood (and probably leaded paint from China) can be.


Gwen, on the other hand, is now obsessed with bugs. She got a "Bug Habitat" toy as her choice. Never before have I seen a toy that generates so much grief and woe. It has a fake plastic tree with cardboard leaves inside, and it is amazing how quickly once the bug gets in there that it becomes listless and inert, almost as if it is depressed at this sudden shift its environment has taken. It's funny how the makers of this toy think that a frankly fake representation of a natural environment can fool people into thinking it is a "natural" toy, when even bugs, with brains the size of the head of a needle, can recognize the difference in less than a second.

The Habitat also has a weak spot around the hinges, where the opening is a little wider than the air holes. Several of the bugs have attempted to escape through this space, and some of the flatter ones (a firefly and another beetle of similar stature) have succeeded, which has led to many tears. Today a caterpillar managed to commit suicide trying to escape that way, which led not only to tears (on the part of the girl) , but complete loss of appetite for me, the lucky one who got to try to pick those remains out of the hinge with a toothpick. Ugh. Adam says -- in his euphimistic way -- that this will "harden" her to the realities of bug mortality more quickly, so while we may have more tears in the short-term, in the long-term she will be happier. I say, you're better off with the peanut butter jar with holes poked in the lid.



We went to the pet store the other day with my next door neighbor and her kids. We stopped to look at a display of birds that are allowed to wander around a "sandbox" on the counter, and my neighbor commented that she would never have a pet bird (because she didn't like to see them in cages.) No sooner had she said this, when her daughter started chorusing that she wanted a bird. We went to look at the fish ("I want a bird, I want a bird!") , the gerbils and hamsters ("I want a bird, I want a bird!"), the other display of caged birds ("I want a bird, I want a bird!") and back to the fish ("I want a bird, I want a bird!"). She wasn't really being obnoxious about it, and I don't think she really thought she would get a bird, but she's four and I think it was in the forefront of her mind.

My neighbor decided to get a treat for their sick cat, and we got in line for checkout; a line quickly formed behind us. One of the birds in the "counter sandbox" had reached out and picked up a dog toy that had a cardboard tag on it (the bird's real point of interest.)

As my neighbor finished paying, the cashier reached over and snatched the toy from the bird and said, "You can't have that." The bird rose up on its legs on the edge of the counter and spread its wings, squawking angrily. The cashier thrust another toy at the bird, but the bird recoiled from the toy ... and backed off the edge of the counter.

Now, this bird can fly, but it took itself a little by surprise, and flapped its wings wildly, grasping at anything with its feet -- and found my neighbor's daughter's pants.

This, of course, let to complete chaos -- my neighbor's daughter was jumping around, screaming her head off; her brother was also shrieking in terror; my neighbor was frozen in place, her eyes wide, trying to figure out what to do; the bird was squawking and flapping its wings; and Gwen was jumping up and down, yelling, "Fly to me! Fly to me!" The bird let go of my neighbor's daughter's pants and dropped to the floor, where it was rescued by the cashier.

A few minutes later, we were all outside. My neighbor's children were still crying (the daugher was fine, by the way), clutching their mother. My neighbor was babbling to me, "I didn't know what to do, I didn't know whether to hit it, but it wasn't biting her, and --" Gwen was grumbling, "I wish I had a turn."

"Look at the bright side," I said when my neighbor stopped for breath. "At least she probably won't be asking for a bird anymore."