“Are you allergic to everything?”
This from three-year-old Drew, my friend Britt’s daughter. I have just offered her my fortune cookie from my Chicken Curry take-out dish. Drew has the pale skin of her Mennonite raised parents and soft baby blonde ringlet curls that fall thinly around the back of her neck. She knows me as “Mom’s writing friend,” and before I leave offers to sell me her illustrated poetry for two cents a page.
“It really does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
“Allergic to wheat and to the dairies?” she asks.
“Yup,” I chuckle to myself about the dairies but am impressed with her precision all the same. “I guess I’m allergic to everything.”
Drew considers this for a moment, swiveling around on her mother’s desk chair and dangling her long, skinny legs out to the sides. She is wearing a tye-dyed tank dress over a yellow floral shirt and blue jeans. Her hair feathers in her face as she twirls to and fro, then she stops and looks at me directly.
“Are you allergic to God?”
“You know Drew, I think I might be,” I say with a giant grin on my face. Britt has just entered the back room and overheard Drew’s question. She turns around promptly, clutching her hands over her mouth to hide her giggling, then exits to the hallway whereupon full bursts of laughter ensue between husband and wife. “Are you allergic to God, Drew?” I ask.
She shakes her head no.
“Well, I think you ask a very interesting question. The more I think about it the more I think you might have hit the nail on the head. Maybe that’s it; I’m allergic to God. Very interesting, hmmm.” There is a pause in our conversation and Drew resumes spinning around in the chair, dazzled by the blur of her own toes, which she has extended out into the air like dainty little carrots. “Do you know anyone else who is allergic to God?” I ask, my amusement with the conversation is truly evident, though I am trying to respect her inquiry all the same.
Again, she shakes her head no.
Sweet parent laughter continues in the hallway and Drew rolls her eyes gently in their direction, as if to say, Geez, what’s so funny to them?