In case we needed further proof that no one really knows how kids’ brains work, I offer you this little anecdote from the other night.

Friends were in from out of town; they’d come over to say a quick hello to the boys before we headed out for grownup dinner. The babysitter–a lovely, very shy girl, who doesn’t sit for us very often–arrived early and sort of perched awkwardly on the couch as we finished our glasses of wine and got ready to leave.

Caleb, in an attempt to put her at ease–or perhaps trying to drive her away–clambered up next to her on the couch, patted her on the knee.

“So,” he said, leaning in. “Are you a Christian?”


Let me just point out that to describe our household as non-religious would be an understatement–I’m pretty sure that Caleb has never been inside a place of worship (temple, church, synagogue, wiccan birch hut) in his entire life. In fact, I don’t even know where he heard the word “Christian” – when we asked him what he meant, he shrugged and said “I have no idea.

I’m just praying the babysitter will come back.