Joel said he had a dream. He said he walked through a door and into a big room. He said that “there were a hundreds” of really big people. His choice of words was a bit less politically correct… You know, “Buddha” chubby. He said all of the people were sitting “criss-cross apple sauce” and rubbing their bellies. The people chanted, “Celebrate the tummy… Celebrate the tummy…”
As if the dream didn’t give me a good chuckle, I overheard Olivia telling her brother, “I don’t celebrate the belly - I celebrate God!”
A couple of days later (today), the kids and I are reclining on the couch, finishing a book about the “First Comers” (Pilgrims) and Plymouth Rock. We learned how, in the name of remembrance of the first people who landed on/near/around the rock - Plymouth Rock was broken and moved and broken and moved and moved… Over many years people seemed to put a lot of time and energy into this physical piece of American history.
It seemed Joel thought it odd that a rock would be given so much attention… for at the end of the book, Joel inquired, “So, did people celebrate the rock?” I said, “It sure looks that way. Is it right for people to celebrate things? What is the only thing should we be celebrate?” Like Olivia said when she first heard Joel’s dream, they both answered, “God”.
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