Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Welcome one and all to another fabulous Catholic Day of Self-Imposed Suffering, otherwise known as Ash Wednesday. Today is the day that we sit around all day not eating, which we then cap off with a trip to church so we can get a schmutz (Official Catholic Term) on our foreheads so that passers-by will know not to fuck with us because we're all cranky from the not-eating. You've been warned
I'm trying to conserve my strength for later, but I did want to share one thing with you people.
My oldest boy goes to Catholic school. He's in first grade. They had a festival type thing to celebrate Fat Tuesday yesterday; of all the days of the year, the day before Ash Wednesday is, in my opinion, the mardiest of all the grases. It deserves to be celebrated and commemorated, usually by eating until your stomach lining ruptures.
In his class, they made Mardi Gras masks. Seeing as they are also learning reading and spelling, they were told to put a word across the top with some foamy glue-on letters. The following is what my son brought home:
That's right, across the top it says FLAME. It's out there and it's proud.
I don't want to read too much into it seeing as my son is 6 and obstinately pre-sexual (he's not even to the "Ewww, gross!" stage when people kiss in a movie), but neither do I want to be one of those moronic parents whose son grew up obsessed with neatness and appearance, with Wizard of Oz posters on his furniture- and carpet-color coordinated walls, was an excellent dancer and went to the prom (in a sequin-lined tuxedo) with his "best girl pal" and then is shocked--SHOCKED!--when that same boy announces he's gay after his first semester in college or after summer sleep-away camp, whichever he feels more comfortable with.
I'm not saying my son CAN'T be gay or that I don't necessarily want him to (I have three sons, so the odds are in my favor that I'll get at least one to be straight and knock up some girl so that I can guarantee my genetic immortality), but at the same time I'm not going to pretend signs aren't signs so I can watch the road ahead and hopefully kick some obstacles aside for him along the way.
Or maybe they were just working on long vowel sounds with the "a_e" construction and F, L and M were the only letters left. It is an excellent crayon rendering of blue fire, I must admit.
Or maybe the lack of food is already starting to degrade my mental capacity and/or is causing slight delusions of illogic and paranoia.
Either way, I have to go lie down now. Typing makes me sleepy.
This post on the Narcissus Scale: 10.0