He made Eve so that they could laugh about it together.

I woke up this morning really hating Ash Wednesday owing to the lack of sugar. First thing I did once the kettle was on was to tump the sugar bowl in the sink to dissolve all the crusty sugar in the bottom from where someone - ahem - accidentally spilled tea in there once or four times.

Today was also the day we had to get the baby his booster flu shot. I may have mentioned before about how I believe in/practice healing prayer. Well, with immunizations, tylenol, whatever drugs, we always give a prayer of thanks before we take the medicine, also asking that it add to our greater health and that we have no negative side effects. For people that say grace, this is a pretty easy practice to add.

The nurses at Pip's pediatrician have mostly been exposed to our little ritual of praying over the syringe before a shot, but we had a new nurse and a nursing student today. They were fine with us praying, but clearly we evoked a certain hillbilly stereotype by prayin' extemp and all. The new nurse asked before stepping out of the room, "Y'all do give him his other vaccinations, right?" And we were all, "Yes. We like medicine and the way vaccines save lives." But it's really no wonder she asked, what with the weirdos you run across in the area. There's a huge encampment of anti-vaccine people in the Chapel Hill/Carrboro (Causehead) area just down the road. One of them came to our house for a dinner party when the baby was three months old and WOULD NOT SHUT UP about her certainty that vaccines caused, in order of frequency: autism, SIDS, other forms of death/disability - and this within a few days of Pip's three-month visit. She was so in her own little causehead that she failed to notice that we mentioned we had a baby in the invitation and that there was baby stuff all over the front room. After one harrowing, detailed tale, I interjected hintingly that our baby had no bad reactions to vaccinations. Her response, "Well, you're just lucky, then." Also, science was not of interest. I was all, "There's actually a 0% correlation between autism and vaccinations. That's kind of an impressive statistic. And those kids whose parents were in the news and sued, well, home video evidence brought up in court showed that the kids already had symptoms of autism before they were vaccinated." But she kept on until - thank God - a very venerable guest was able to get her to change the subject. [Note to self: if hostess' nostrils turn white/her head spins/she gets up twice to check on the baby, shut the hell up about whatever you're on about.] But back to the nurses. Maybe next time I'll just say, "Um, we're from Durham."

We all went to get ashed after his doctor's appointment. Pip had a blast dancing during the one hymn and the communion music. It's hilarious to me that our baby is so musical - hilarious as in purely joyful.

I was not really into the whole Ash Wednesday thing, as I said before. Besides the sugar, I also was feeling kind of like, why the crap do we do this anyway? I knew it mirrored the sign of the cross in baptism, but my mind was too tired to "get" it. Then the sermon mentioned something about the dust from which Adam was formed, and that stuck in my head a little. But what really got me was going down the aisle to get ashed. I saw my 93 year old friend Sylvia with the black cross on her forehead, and all the other elderly folks, too. When Pip received his ashes, it struck me hard: my baby, if my happiest momma dreams are fulfilled, will have ashes marked on his forehead when he is 90-something. But Sylvia's ashes and Pip's ashes were the same reminder: "From dust you came, and to dust you shall return." I walked back from the ashing with a mother's understanding. I don't want my baby to die, even if he's ninety-something. I love him and I want him always to be full of life. And it hit me: exactly. That's what God wants, too.

So in the car on the way home I explained to Pip:
Me: Yes. I have ashes on my forehead, and Poppa has them on his, and you have them on yours.
Pip: smile
Me: They remind us of how Poppa God grabbed some dust and made a person and then [raspberry noise with extra spit] blew into his nostrils to make him alive.
Pip: laugh
Me: That's right, baby. God is fond of fart noises. In fact, that's why He made people with the ability to fart, because it's funny.
Pip: smile
Me: The first thing He did after He made Adam was to feed him beans, just to make sure everything was in order. [sound effects ensue]
Pip: laughter

You see, the deeper meaning sunk in after all.

To amuse the post-immunization slightly high-maintenance baby, I switched activities often this afternoon.

We walked, we looked at the humidifier vapor, we looked out the window, and I let the kid eat paper. See, here's the deal:

But I don't like him eating printed paper because of the inks and dyes. Only sometimes I let him just to get five minutes to drink a cup of tea. Today was a holy day, however, and inspiration struck. Now he can chew as much paper as he likes, as long as it's made of cupcake liners.

above: cupcake liners and a dismantled tea strainer

And one more thing: I've been a little tough on the Methodists in some recent posts, so here's one thing I really like about them.