On being wicked...

My grandmother has been spending some considerable amount of time at my place watching my kid while I am working. The thing about my kid is, he really only needs us adults around to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so watching him can get a little, well, boring.

And so every morning while my son sleeps in until ten, my grandmother will read a book from my collection. Don't worry, I've been careful to hide the adult themed books so my grandmother doesn't find them. She did, however, find my Augusten Burroughs books. Not only did she read them, but she loved them. This surprised me a bit because I seem to remember spending my childhood summers stuck at her house with nothing but cheesy romance novels to read. But if she wants to pick up a GOOD book a read it, well that is fine by me.

Last week she finished all of my Burroughs books and requested another book. I was shuffling through a stack of books I have even yet to finish and I picked up "Love in the Time of Cholera." I tried reading this book but it's too dry for me. I figured it would be a great book for an old lady like my Grandma Willie, but just as I was about to walk away another book caught my eye.

And suddenly I had a devious idea!

And as we speak my God fearing, Jesus loving, Christian Grandmother is reading Sam Harris' "The End of Faith." When I gave her the book I figured she would read the first chapter, realize it's all about how religion is destroying the world, and put it down with a foul face. This is not the case. She is actually enjoying it.

Which makes me wonder if she really understands yet what the book is about...