In our heathen household Jesus's name hasn't been mentioned since the creche scene was put away, and the little wooden baby Jesus was no longer available to drive around in the bed of little pickup trucks with his accompanying palm trees and manger. Liam thinks for a minute. He looks at me, his eyes big, blue, and sincere. His blond hair falls so heavily around his little face. He is wearing his green tyrannasaurus pajamas, and there is chocolate on his chin and cheek from the massive amount of chocolate he has already consumed by 7:30 AM. "Well, long ago, but when Jesus was a grown up, he had an accident, and lots of people thought he was dead. And they were really, really sad that he was dead. But then, on Easter Sunday, they realized that they had been wrong, he wasn't dead after all! So they were really happy, and celebrated. And that's how the happy holiday of Easter was started. It was a day for celebrating life and joy."
Liam thinks about this for a little while. Of course he is, at 3, familiar with how sad death makes people, and I think the idea that one could be mistaken about someone's death is intriguing to him.
Hmmm. I hadn't thought that far.