Moses, Feminist Style

Naomi was getting ready to go to church, getting ready the slow way. She was making breakfast a bowl of variety pack: some sugared Cherrios, some regular Cherrios, some coco puffs. I sat down beside her to chat while she ate – grabbing the Bible for a back-up of stories to tell, hoping that some page I opened to would remind me of the details of women’s lives that would catch her attention.

Sure enough, I started at the beginning ... of Moses and I took the liberty of adding details that are only subtext – embellishing them ... the midwives who didn’t kill the baby boys, the basket makers who knew how to make water-tight containers to rock their babies in, the babysitters who stood far away while keeping a close eye on the babies, the Pharoah’s daughter who sent her maids into the water, even though she had come to take a bath, the wet nurses that keep babies alive, a woman paid for feeding her own son – it was all there in spades.

Rhiannon reading Wild Animals in 3D

 ... Rhiannon checking in 2D if she really saw what she saw in 3D ...

Naomi was a little nervous about some of the lies the mothers who wanted to save their babies were telling. Mary gave Naomi a quick lesson obfuscation – using that exact word. She will learn the word if Mary uses it enough. Mary showed Naomi that choices between white and black can become grey when life and death is at stake.

In my breakfast story, Moses became a female centred tale, since I was talking to a little girl eating her Nestle Nesquick wanting the thrill of some kind of chase for women.

Rhiannon negotiating to wear no sweater on top of her dress.
She lost.  It is a wintery day.

I had the fun of constructing Zipporah and her sisters as having a right to the water in the well for their flocks, talking about the other shepherds trying to chase them away and mentioning that 8 people (7 sisters and Moses) could get the troughs filled so fast that the fathered wondered why everyone was home so early.

Mary wearing a snake bracelet as a hair ornament to church.

Rhiannon listened in. First she told me no, she didn’t want to hear the story and clapped her hands over her ears.

Then she was sure she already knew it.

Next, I asked her to raise her hand the first time she heard some line that was familiar to her. She raised her hand before I even started talking. I can’t help bursting out laughing at her. I try not to. She doesn’t know what I am laughing about, except that it is at her and that makes her mad ... very mad.

Mary softening the shock of the snake in the hair with some jewels.

I closed the book at one exciting point, telling her I would go on with the next part of the story tomorrow. By then Rhiannon was hooked.

 I can catch Naomi into the story telling on the first sentence. Rhiannon has to listen for a paragraph or two before she is lured in.

Sunday fun for me.

Arta