Ana and I have some interesting conversations around naptime.

She doesn't take a nap every day anymore (being nearly five!), but if we happen to be home I try to get her to anyway. Or if we're out and she's cranky, I try to get her to nap on the bus.

Before her naps, she brings up all sorts of interesting topics she'd never bring up at another time. It's wonderful, and I love snuggling up and talking about them.

Today was a no-nap day.

We started off talking about basic animal safety ( Read more... )

Which led to me explaining that I don't believe in God, but other people do, and NO, Ana, that doesn't mean that Grandma's wrong, or that I'm wrong, just that we don't think the same things, and that it's not possible for us to know who is right or wrong.

And this girl clearly either needs a lot more religion in her life or a lot less, because this is the resulting end-of-conversation:

Ana: Maybe when you're older, when you're 27, you can come to visit Grandma and go to church with me!
Me: Well, maybe. I don't mind church, that can be nice. I don't have to think God is real to do that.
Ana: Well, maybe God will be in church!
Me: *uh-oh* Uh... maybe. But... uh... Ana, I think most people who believe in God will tell you that God is everywhere....
Ana: No, God lives in church.
Me: Well, yes, if there is a god, God is in church, yes, but I think the idea is that God is always with you. Like, I bet maybe your grandma would say that God is watching you right now, because God is supposed to be everywhere. If there is a god, I mean.
Ana: No...! God can't be in houses! He can't come in bedrooms! God can't see me in my hammock, because God is in church!
Me: Yeah. I don't think so. Maybe you should ask your grandmother.
Ana: No, because she'll say God's in church.
Me: I think you should ask her. Seriously.

Clearly there's some miscommunication going on here. Which is only to be expected, she doesn't go to church with her parents or anything.

An article by the mom of an autistic child

Not so depressing I want to lie down and bawl.

Karen McCarron has been sentenced

36 years in prison with, apparently, no chance of parole.

My sense of vengeance is now satisfied. As for justice, though... how can anything ever make right another person's murder? Especially where the murdered was helpless and harmed by those who were supposed to defend and protect them?

We can't find justice by punishing this woman further. Oh, I'm angry still - I'll probably be angry for the rest of my life about this - but I don't see the need to carry on about it in a totally non-productive fashion. The only justice now is in doing our best to prevent this from happening again. Not sure how to do that specifically, and I'm getting a little too worked up to keep typing about this subject. I'll try later.