A Conversation About God

The Diva's MDO class is having the End of the Year program this evening. For the Christmas program, the kids dressed as snowmen complete with stovepipe hats. Picking her up today, we began the usual after school conversation about her day. Then I asked what I thought to be a logical next question:

Me: Are you wearing a costume for your program tonight?
Diva: I wanna wear the God costume.
**long silent pause** Wow, I was thinking she would say flower or something else with a summer theme. Maybe I just misunderstood her.
Me: What costume?
Diva: The God costume. We need to go to the costume store and get my God costume.
Me: I'm not really sure we should do that. I don't think that's a good idea.
Diva: Why?
Me: Wanna go to Taco House for lunch?

So I took "God" to Taco Bell for lunch. Do you think that was okay? Maybe I should have sprung for something a little nicer.

Is This Your Kid?

It all started with me running late - something that was never a problem until I had kids. I got stuck in town, unsure I would make it back in time to pick Diva up from MDO. Mother-in-law to the rescue. The call was placed and she agreed to meet Diva at MDO and wait with her until I arrived (I was only going to be about 5 minutes late). I made pretty good time driving back and actually got there on time. As I arrived at Diva's classroom, her teacher was gone and another mom was minding the class. She was holding a child (remember this, it becomes important soon), but I was too focused on finding Diva to notice much else.

I scanned the class and not seeing Diva, began this conversation:
Her: Who are you looking for?
Me: I don't see her, but her grandma may have beat me here
Her: What's her name?
Me: "Diva"
Her: This "Diva"? **with funny look on her face, pointing to the child she is holding**
Me: Um ... yeah, that's my "Diva"

Not that there could possibly be any defense for not recognizing your own child
but ... I left home early that morning and didn't get her dressed. On top of that,
her hair had not been fixed because her Daddy doesn't do hair. So, I paid no real
attention to the random child this woman was holding because Diva would never
look the mess that she did that day ... mismatched clothes/wild hair/face turned
the other direction. And my beautiful baby girl just looked at me like I had lost
my mind ... pretty much the same look the other mom gave me.

Surprisingly, I was able to take her home without producing any identification and Family Services has yet to show up at my front door.