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So Punch Girl started kindergarten. And she has a posse. It's day 3 and they've already banded together to "kill God".
As a great man once said, I am not making this up.
As a great man once said, I am not making this up.
The posse came from preschool, by way of central casting. Three boys. The first has a vibe that makes him feel like he's about 2.5 feet away from looking like this: 
The second one is really into baseball.
Really. REALLY. Into baseball.
I did not know that the pitching styles of the Twins starting lineup were so clearly distinct until he demonstrated for me.
Really. REALLY. Into baseball.
I did not know that the pitching styles of the Twins starting lineup were so clearly distinct until he demonstrated for me.
The third is this little sweetie bruiser who might be the Joe Pesci of the group.
And then there's my daughter, who is going to make the local high school theater goths very happy someday.
I love them all so much.
And then there's my daughter, who is going to make the local high school theater goths very happy someday.
I love them all so much.
Did you guys know that those ragtag gangs of children from Goonies/Stand By Me/Stranger Things/etc really do just assemble out of midair in real life?
I did not know. Turns out, they do.
I did not know. Turns out, they do.
So, anyway, it's day 3 of kindergarten. I'm sitting at the dinner table rapidly turning into my mom as I try to get my child to tell me about her day.
And I ask her whether she's getting to play with her dudebros.
"Oh, yeah, sure," she says. My perfect little Minnesotan.
And I ask her whether she's getting to play with her dudebros.
"Oh, yeah, sure," she says. My perfect little Minnesotan.
Punch Girl and her dudes hang out every recess.
They play superheroes.
"Today, we killed God," she says.
They play superheroes.
"Today, we killed God," she says.
You did what now, tiny Nietzsche?
Naturally, this is when she gets distracted by her little sister and refuses to elaborate.
So. I do what any good mom would do. I text the posse mom I feel most certain is unlikely to be offended by pretend deitycide.
Naturally, this is when she gets distracted by her little sister and refuses to elaborate.
So. I do what any good mom would do. I text the posse mom I feel most certain is unlikely to be offended by pretend deitycide.
This would be baseball kid's mom. And after she stops laughing, she goes to ask him about it.
His response. And again, I am not making this up: "Well, God was just getting too powerful."
His response. And again, I am not making this up: "Well, God was just getting too powerful."
This is where we place our bets. Am I:
A) Needing to send my kid to those UU comparative religion classes
B) About to become the stock grown-up background character in a Stephen King and/or Neil Gaiman novel
C) A few years away from hosting a LOT of D&D games in my basement.
A) Needing to send my kid to those UU comparative religion classes
B) About to become the stock grown-up background character in a Stephen King and/or Neil Gaiman novel
C) A few years away from hosting a LOT of D&D games in my basement.
It's "All of the above", isn't it?
