What you can just barely see on Zoe’s chin is the beginning of a three-inch scrape that travels from there and up along her left jawline. When Zoe gets tired, she gets hyper. she also gets clumsy, which makes for a potentially rough combination.
Especially when faces meet concrete benches.
It was both reassuring and a little creepy how quickly two Disney staff members descended on us like secret service agents after her fall from the bench where she was being Superman/woman. In less than thirty seconds, they were hovering over her. In another minute, they had an ice pack for her owie, and two minutes later, she had a complimentary Mickey Mouse doll to help her feel better.
The bleeding slowed, her smile returned and all was well.
Small wonder we wander through the rest of life expecting all our discomforts to be so swiftly and comprehensively addressed. And is it any surprise we look for such quick fixes from church and/or God?
Personally, I fall more in the camp of Pete Rollins, who claims that God doesn’t actually want us to be happy. It’s when we buy the illusion that a life of faith equals a life of comfortable happiness that we both convert Christianity into the latest product and also set ourselves up for misery (see Mattias’ sprinkle debacle in my last post).
As for last night, all ended fairly well, with kids passed out, Mickeys in a firm embrace, and boo-boos healing. In all, a pretty good day in fantasy land.