Independence from Fireworks

While driving to church Sunday (as opposed to the other days we drive to church), Lil asked me if I had ever considered living in another country. Justice piped up, as she is wont to do, and said, "Like Idaho?"

"Justice, what country do we live in?"

"California."

"No, what country?"

"Riverside."

I chuckled a little. Ahhh, the innocence of youth.

"On July 4th, what do we celebrate?"

"Independence."

"Independece from whom?"

"Fireworks."

"We celebrate independence from fireworks?"

"Oh, no. God."

"We celebrate independence from God?"

"Yes."

At this point, Lil jumped in.

"Justice, how many states are there?"

"I don't know."

I start to sing, "Mmphty, nifty United States, from the Thirteen original colonies. Shout 'em. Scout 'em. Tell all about 'em. One by one, till we've given a name . . ."

"Ohhh," Justice replied. "Fifty states!"

"Good," I say, taking hope again in the youth of our nation and the education system that attempts to create clones from children regardless of their needs or their abilities. "Now, who did the Thirteen Original Colonies belong to?"

"God."

"Ok, but more specifically, what country claimed them?"

"I don't know."

"When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people . . ." I begin.

"She won't know that."

"Why not?" I ask, baffled. I've been able to rattle off most of the Preamble for the better part of two decades.

"Oh, I know," Justice says triumphanty. "The United States!"