I am Not Bad.

Little Miss Dee has gotten into the bad habit of blaspheming. Nothing is a better mirror than hearing your four-year-old repeat phrases that make you think "...Hmmm...if it doesn't sound good coming from her mouth, it probably doesn't sound good coming from mine." Operation Oh My Goodness is in effect, housewide.

Outside in the backyard, venting frustration at being unable to free herself from Mr. Man's toddler swing, Dee lets out an "Oh. My. God."

I gently remind her, "Dee, that phrase can be offensive to people who believe in God, remember? What could you say instead?"

Before she answered, one of the boys I babysit, G, said "Yeah. It's taking the Lord's name in vain." I agreed, said "That's called blasphemy."

G continued, "I believe in God." 

"Do you?" I asked. Not in a frowny-face, stern "DO you??", but in a general-interest-continue-if-you-want-to-way.

"Yeah," G said. "Do you?"

Here it is: the awkward moment where I'm torn between being true to myself and avoiding topics with the kids I babysit that perhaps their parents would wish me to avoid. But...then again...honesty is always the best policy.  "No, I don't." I reply.

Shock is obvious on his eight-year-old face. His mouth hangs open for a few seconds, and then it changes to something else. His next two words are filled with all the nastiness of the playground: "You're bad."

I'm bad. His babysitter for almost a year. The person who bakes multiple times a week to make sure there is more than enough of his favourites for snacks. The person who remembers which Webkinz he doesn't already own, and then gifts them to him. The person who talks him through his bad days at school, who hugs him when he's sad, who tucks him into the couch with his favourite blanket and movie when he's tired or not feeling well, and who has all of Taylor Swift's albums for his listening pleasure. I'm bad.

I know he didn't learn that at home, because his parents don't think that way about me (obviously or they wouldn't entrust me with their child). Where, then, did he learn that if you don't share a belief in God, you're bad?  A sub-standard human? Someone who deserves to be called names?

Bad people don't save their pennies for a year to donate at the local SPCA's annual penny drive. Bad people don't cry at 30-second long commercials. Bad people don't pack extra snacks for the playground in case their child befriends someone who already ate their snack (and bad people certainly don't make sure to pack allergy-friendly snacks just in case the child befriended has a peanut allergy and baby wipes don't clean hands well enough to be free of peanut residue).

I'm not bad. Unless you mean it in the throw-back 80s bad-equals-awesome way, then yes, I'm SUPER bad! Or is it rad...? I'm an atheist, yes, but I'm also very sensitive, very kind, very thoughtful, and funny to boot (See? I told you I was awesome!)! If I don't screw it up, my children will be the same way, regardless of whatever religious beliefs they feel is right for them in the future.

We need to be careful of what we teach our children. I don't care if you believe in God, Allah, Yahweh, Vishnu or the Celestial Teapot: pass along your beliefs and traditions to your children but be careful not to label those of a differing belief as being something undesirable, negative, something bad. The world is a big place, with lots of people and lots of different ideas. The differences are what make it beautiful, and the differences should be celebrated and not condemned.