Recently, I have been searching journal archives for records of my offspring's more entertaining outbursts. I find it particularly amusing that some of my spawn's most insane comments come within prayers and other religious settings.I am always torn between a genuine desire to maintain respect, and the competing urge to unceremoniously burst into a giggling fit. Usually the mental battle physically expresses itself in a sudden snort of laughter, followed by an attempt to suffocate myself in an attempt to stifle it. "They don't know why she did it. They were just saying the blessing on the food, and she smothered herself. She never was quite normal, that lady, but I never would have expected this."
As an amateur psychologist, qualified both by my impressively long history spent in shrink offices, and by my incognito missions to the "Mental Health" aisle of the bookstore, I love to analyze these stream-of-conscious mutterings of children. You hear exactly what is going on in their misguided minds. The rest of us, or rather the rest of YOU, filter out the crazy before you allow a sentence out of your mouth, particularly during these situations that request some measure of decorum. Not children. They do exactly what I have taught them to do in a prayer, which is to speak openly and honestly. Keeping in mind these are all sincere expressions of faith on the part of innocent children, and not deliberate sacrilege, I thought I would share some of my favorites.
I fondly recall one time that my parents came to dinner at our home, and the six-year-old hooligan saying the blessing prayed that I would "behave," because my mom and dad were there. This is the same youth who, also in prayer, repeatedly expressed his gratitude that his mommy loved him, even when he "did something so bad [he] went to jail." This same kid, incidentally, had a good reason for thanking me for such devotion, as he, along with a younger impressionable sibling, had written their two names ( followed by the forbidden word "poop") on our pool table. Fortunately, this anonymous delinquent used school glue to write, so thanks to the wisdom of the glue manufacturer, it is removable. I have not, however, bothered to remove it. I need it there to use as blackmail.
I have to wonder, from the point of a student of abnormal psychology, why this kid felt the need to publicly caution me in my behavior. Was he projecting his feelings of guilt on to me? Was he attempting to turn my parents against me so that they would refuse me the cake they had brought, and give him my share? Perhaps I am giving too much credit to a child of six, but these are some of the ideas my favorite abnormal psychology book would have me believe. (Why of COURSE, I have a "favorite" abnormal psychology book. Don't you?)
This same young man once asked, in another mealtime prayer, that we would all "love our mommies, but if we don't, they will get mad, but they will still love us anyway." Again, I have to question the mental process prompting this comment. Was this a reminder to me that, when he becomes a teenager and finds me tiresome and unbearable, I am still required by motherly duty to love him in return? (Yes, son, I will indeed still adore you, but I will never let you borrow the car unless you like me back, or do your best impression of it.) More frightening... what if he has ALREADY realized how lame I am? The child is a genius. He could indeed be on to me, already...
My 5-year-old sweetheart recently spent a seeming eternity (for anyone who was actually hungry and hoping to eat) blessing a lengthy list of living things, for no apparent reason, during her dinner prayer. At the end of this soliloquy, she eventually just gave up and blessed "the whole World, and the Universe." Why, do you suppose, did she not just begin her supplication with the plea for the welfare of the Universe? Did she not realize it would have rendered the rest of her speech unnecessary? Was this a deliberate act of defiance because she did not approve of my broccoli casserole? Of course it was not. She is only five, and I cook neither broccoli, nor casserole. But you have to admit, it would be a clever demonstration of passive-aggression on her part.
 |
| She wouldn't take as long to bless dessert, I'll bet. |
I could compose a book of comical religious supplications from my children. I could spend even more time and blog space on tales of innocently inappropriate actions during church, and other occasions demanding reverence. However, I will refrain, because someday my offspring will be old enough to read this blog post and realize I was secretly laughing the whole time. They will never take my stern reprimands seriously again. They will be teenagers, but get the mistaken impression that these words, so cute at the age of five, are still adorable when they are 13. I don't want to give them any more ideas, because then I will just have to think of more ways to ground them, and frankly, planning punishments already takes up far too much of my TV-and-doughnut time.
