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We have a long and storied history of misfires when it comes to discussing issues of God, religion and spirituality with our daughter.

During our first real substantive conversation about God when she was 3, we managed to scare the bejeezus out of her and leave her thinking she had a little man living in her tummy.

Then there was the time she thought church was called “cheech,” which made our spiritual failings glaringly evident every time she said, “Hey, Mom, let’s go to cheech this Sunday.”

We’re doing better these days, mainly because she’s older and there are fewer risks of miscommunication when discussing the complexities of God and such. But, from time to time, things still get lost in translation.

Last night at bedtime when Daddy was reading to the child from a book of nighttime blessings, they settled on a story about Jesus and shepherds. She seemed to be paying attention, but when the story ended, she jumped up and ran around the house chanting, “Shepherd’s Pie! Shepherd’s Pie! Shepherd’s Pie!” We think she may have missed the point of that story. Either that or she was hungry for pub food.

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