Several weeks ago I was getting my son, Ben, up in the morning to go to school. Ben is 8 and in the third grade. I walked into Ben’s room as he slept and announced that; “Here’s everything you need this morning” (to get up and dressed for school).
A sleepy little boy voice said: “Did you bring me a drink?” The voice quickly continued: “How about world peace, Daddy did you bring me World Peace?”
“Uh, no,” I said.
“Then you DIDN”T bring me everything I need, did you?” said Ben. “Daddy, you need to be more precise in your language.”
Truer words were never spoken out of the mouth of babes. After I had finished giving my schmarty-pants son some noogies, hugs and kisses and getting some of my own, I replied. “How many times has daddy said that to you, Ben?”
“At least a Hundred Million Times!” said Ben. “But, now I GOT YOU!” Ben gloated. “HAH!”
I left Ben to finish his dressing and went downstairs and found my daughter Bella (short for Isabella) watching TV. Bella is 11 and fascinated by whodunits, often getting the culprit before I do. Bella was watching a DVR’d episode of “Bones” which features a beautiful brilliant woman forensic anthropologist, a hunky FBI agent and a bevy of interesting other characters who solve murders using human remains as clues. They all work at something called the Jefferson Institute.
“Daddy, why does “Bones” give the FBI guy trouble for believing in God?” said Bella.
“Bones is an atheist,” I said.
“What’s that?” Bella asked.
“A person who doesn’t believe there is a God.” I said. “Bones is a scientist, a professional skeptic who doesn’t believe in things she can’t see or touch or smell or verify by testing.”
“Are all scientists atheists?” she inquired.
“Nope,” I said.
“It sounds like being a skeptic helps you be a good scientist,” Bella said.
“Absolutely,” I exclaimed. “One of the best things to be as a scientist.”
“I’m going to be a scientist but, I’ll still believe in God, daddy” said my daughter. “May I have some cereal for breakfast?”