C (from the back seat, out last-minute Christmas shopping): I spy, with my little eye, something that is indivisible.
D (driving): Something that is what?
F: God? No, Cory, no. You can’t say God because God is dead.
C: No, that isn’t it.
F: And so is Cheesus.
C: Cheesus is God’s friend.
F: And he died, too.
C: But, that isn’t the answer, Fisher! Stop saying that. It’s air.
F: God and his friend Cheesus are dead.
C: Fisher! I told you. It’s air.
D: Air is invisible?
F: Daddy, who is Cheesus?
D: He was a man who lived 2000 years ago.
C: Wow. That’s a long time.
F: But who he was?
D: He was a man who went around his country telling everyone that the rich people needed to stop being so mean to the poor people, to stop hoarding all the money to keep them poor and to keep themselves rich.
F: Cheesus didn’t like the rich people like Mitt Ronemey?
D (smiling): Well, yes. The rich people were really rich, and the poor people were really poor. And Jesus told everyone how wrong that was.
C: Did everyone listen?
D: Well, they listened for a little while, but the rich people didn’t like what they heard.
F: Because they were rich?
D: I suppose so.
C: But, Cheesus was God’s friend, right?
D: Some people think so, yes.
C: Then, those rich people should listen to him because he’s God’s friend.
F: Daddy, is air indivisible?
D: Yes, it’s invisible.
F: No, it’s not.
D: Why do you say that?
F: Because er, eh, uh, when the morning is cold and I can see the air coming out of your mouth. I can see it, so it isn’t always indivisible.
Nothing like a spoonful of Christianity-country-and-chemistry stew.