It’s Mother’s Day.
Elysha, the kids, and I are eating an excellent brunch at Big Daddy’s, a diner on the upper west side.
We’re in the city to visit Elysha’s parents and her grandmother, who is a few blocks north at Mount Sinai, recovering from a recently broken hip.
Elysha hands Charlie a dollar bill to play an arcade game. It’s a version of the claw machine, filled with rubber ducks, except that everyone who plays wins. You just keep grabbing until you have a rubber duck between the claw’s teeth.
It’s great except that it’s establishing some seriously unrealistic expectations for the future.
Charlie looks at the dollar bill, sees the words, “In God We Trust,” and asks her why there is a reference to God on our money.
Elysha explains that it’s simply the way our money was designed.
Charlie, age 6, smacks his palm against his forehead, sighs, and say, “I don’t even believe in God. Do you?”
He apparently supports the separation of church and state. Also, I guess he’s an atheist. And Jewish.
My children will never cease to amaze me.