In the car, on the way to school, listening to “Morning Edition.”

A: Washington! That’s where Obama moved to!

Me: That’s right.

A: ‘Cause he doesn’t live here anymore.

Me: Well, he never really lived here. He lived in Chicago, then he moved to Washington.

A: And then he went to the Turkey Village! And he ate a turkey there!

Me: Well, I’m not sure if he ate turkey or not, but he did go to Turkey.

A: I think he did! I think he put a turkey in the oven and baked it and then ate it.  But we don’t eat turkey because we are vegetarians.

And then, the other day at school, we learned that our son is an essential nihilist.

Eric had just dropped the boy off at school and overheard him tell his friend B, “Hey B, you know what is a pretty good song? ‘John Henry.” But then he DIES.”  

Hearing this, our son’s teacher said to Eric:

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me.  The other day on the playground some kids were talking back and forth about someone that is dead. At first I thought they were talking about a classmate, and I assured them that they were very alive, but the boy insisted that ‘No, he’s dead! He’s really, really dead!!’ and after listening for a while I realized that they were talking about God.”

Maybe we need to stop reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra to him as a bedtime story.