After going to church the day before, where she had learned about God being awesome and powerful, Annabel was in a particularly insightful mood. She had also been studying outer space and house construction with avid fascination. A dangerous combination.
This was the result of those three things churning and colliding inside her head.
"Mom," she said. This is how she always starts her philosophical questions.
I was driving, so I couldn't see her face, but I knew that tone--something big was coming. "Where do stars come from? Explosions, right?"
"God made everything," I said.
She thought about this. "Even stars?"
"Even stars," I replied. I thought we were done and I had gotten off easy.
"That's not true," she said a minute later.
"He didn't make houses. The builders did."
She had a point, but I was ready. "God made the people who made the houses," I answered. That was a good answer, right?
"That doesn't mean He made the houses, mom, and if He didn't make the houses, He didn't make everything," she said, a little condescendingly.
Who taught this child logic anyway? Oh, wait. That was me. Ugh.