Life, the Universe and Everything

There are a couple of killer questions that you're never quite prepared for when they issue from the mouths of babes. So, on Wednesday I could deal with the "where do babies come from?" clanger from the 4-year-old. But the one that threw me was Thursday's, "Mum, do you believe in God?" Okay, so maybe when you're 7 these things really play on your mind, but I'd done my perseverating on Creationism versus Evolution many decades before and hadn't really given it much more airtime since.
Right, I thought, I'll go through the logistics first. I'm going to give him the facts and let him work it out for himself. I tell him about what the scientists say about the Big Bang Theory and Darwinian Survivial of the Fittest. At this point I'm struggling a bit having ditched Science in Year 11. But I'm sounding pretty erudite (to The Youth anyway) and Mr 7 is nodding sagely, taking it all in.
But when it comes to the Creationist theories I'm struggling a little. The more I talked about how some 'being' created the entire universe and every living thing in it in 7 days, the more Mr Back Seat is looking like I'm spinning him some sort of crapola. "What!", he says. "Invented EVERYTHING...in SEVEN days."  In the rear vision mirror I see that he looks supremely unconvinced and starts shaking his head. "No", he declares. "That doesn't sound right." I'm not sure at this point whether he's doubting my credentials as a reliable source of fact or whether the whole God Theory isn't washing for him. After an interminable silence he pipes up from the back. "I'm an Evolutionist", he says. I nodded my head in agreement. Do you think it's too early to introduce him to Richard Dawkins?

Who was that hoon?

In my teens everyone was doing it, in my twenties it was totally de rigeur, in my thirties it was generally tolerated, but now that I've hit forty, my hoon driving has become officially unacceptable (to selected persons anyway). I'm not sure if you know the type of driving I'm talking about, so let me live it for you here. The sunroof is open, all the windows are down (regardless of wind chill factor), the stereo is at ear-bleeding, sunnies are on. Music selection is incredibly cool, of course, and all other family members have been dispatched from the car. It's just me, the stereo and the open road (or Anzac Parade). The speed limit is not necessasrily being adhered to at this point.
In my own mind I'm this hip, urbane, groover behind the wheel. But then there's the time-space continuum. Strictly speaking consciousness is subjective, so I can be whomever I want in these little hoon fantasies of mine. However, the continuum does allow for other realities and I suspect that mine may be at the delusional end of the Bell Curve.
Let's take a moment to study, shall we, how an unbiased voyeur may see things. Observe, the mother in the 4WD with the four baby booster seats arranged in the rear of the vehicle. Note, the harried look and furrowed brow. These seemingly inocuous details are vital in determining what we have here. She is The Ageing Hoon, unable to glide gracefully into middle-age, into sensible shoes and grown-up couture, into blow-dried hair and Blackberries.
The Youth have declared my hoonish behaviour mildly amusing, sometimes alarming but only acceptable if their choice of music is playing. My husband vascillates between love and loathing. He loves it on a Friday night after a dinner out when he can play Joy Division as loud as he likes and hang his head out the window yelling at passers-by. He hates it on a Saturday morning when my erratic antics bring on billious attacks.
Yes, it may be juvenile behaviour on my part, but I like it and I'm sticking with it.
But this does beg the question: how old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?