Oh Dear God

We have taken our boys to church twice in their lifetime - both times on Christmas Eve.  The first time, they were 2 months and almost 2 and had no idea where we were.  The second time, they didn't have any more idea where we were, but were old enough to shout "Rudolph!" and "Frosty" when the priest asked for the congregation's favorite Christmas hymns.  That, and their viewing of the pews as personal jungle gyms sealed the last chapter in our history as churchgoers. 

So... you can imagine my surprise when I found this on my counter a few months ago:

I shrugged it off and figured that, unfortunately, someone had adopted my use of the Lord's name in vain.  But then there we were Christmas morning, at the peak of anticipation, just about to dive into the mound of presents under our nothing-but-secular tree, and Adam asks us all to pause.  "We have to sing 'Happy Birthday' to Jesus first," he says.  Huh.  Okay then.  We humored him with a rousing edition of 'Happy Birthday'.  And we humored him further when, a few days later, he pointed out to Daddy that "Jaggy" (his new Jaguars mascot stuffed animal that he'd gotten for Christmas) and Jesus were sort of like twins, since they'd both been 'born' on Christmas Day. 

I wondered who I had to thank for my son's religious education, so I started asking around.  Most parents worry about what sort of language or sex ed their kids will pick up on the schoolbus; well, it turns out that our kid had been picking up a solid dose of CCD instead.  And just like we would have done had he come home with a curiosity about where babies come from, we responded with a trip to the library and an attempt to answer his questions (although, I must admit, I have an easier time answering the "where do babies come from?" question than I do deciphering children's bible stories).  And this little obsession with all things biblical seems to have since run its course...

And it appears doomsday prophesying has taken its place.