beckity

Dimpled hands that reach round my neck when I lift her up. Wide beautiful eyes that are stubbornly refusing to go totally brown. A big sister she adores and a double-handed wave that she saves for her favourite people. Stubby sturdy legs that carry her tottering forwards, faster and faster each day. Wild hair that she brushes from her eyes and pulls clips from as fast as they are placed. Infectious giggles, one word (DOUDOU!) and many other copied sounds. A comforting thumb and a love of nesting her head under my chin. I don't want to forget.

Elsie hands me the book, snuggles up and I start reading. It's one of her bible stories for kids. We are looking at a picture of a group of people including Noah, who is about to start building the ark, on God's instruction. She stops me. 'Where's God?' I hesitate. 'God isn't one of those people. You can't see God.' 'Why?' 'Er, well Elsie. Some people believe that God is, er, well not a person, but a being...' 'What's that? A being?' I am so ill prepared for this conversation. I try a different approach. 'Do they talk about God at your school? Do they talk about Dieu?' Elsie thinks. 'It's like "Mon Dieu"!' She says. 'Yes' I nod, 'Mon Dieu means My God.' 'Mon Dieu!' she shouts, triumphantly. 'Tu ne peux pas faire ca !'