“Mommy, talk about cheese.” H (3) asks as we pass a quaint church with cows on the train up to the mountains.
“Well, let’s see…where to start?” I then launch into a twenty-minute ramble about rain, and grass, and cows, and milk, and pectin, and salt, and cheese robots, and aging, and then shipping it to Costco. She listens patiently, prompting me to continue on after each section with a cute “Say the next part, Mommy.”
When I finally say that is all I know about cheese, she asks “But what about the part where they kill him?”
Ah. She had actually said, “Mommy, talk about Jesus.”
After showing her church after church throughout Switzerland, she’s starting to catch on that this guy might have an interesting story. So I’ve been brushing up on my Jesus. As they overhear my attempts at the story of Jesus for the fourth time in a row, I imagine the people next to us on the tram think we are the most ill-informed missionaries ever. If only there were friendly people who would come to my door and help me out?
In addition to Jesus, H’s most recent interests include: her birthday, rainbows, sparkle dresses, ‘working’ on the computer and testing limits. Here is our most recent collaboration–she let me know which color and typed them out, I provided spelling expertise when tolerated.
I WANT TO HIT YOU,
HYTE EWRTYUIOPLK, RTTRDSAZXCBN MHGF
Jesus, help me.