Grandpa, The Cheetos Loving Atheist

I am defying that damn dirty floor in the other room, my ultimate nemesis, and allowing myself to write a little blurb about Grandpa— the Cheetos loving Atheist. As much as the floor is my nemesis, Grandpa (and he doesn’t know this) is my inspiration. This is an embarrassing admission. Hopefully I don’t have to worry about Grandpa discovering this secret because I asked him the other day if he read my blog and he answered simply “No, I don’t read Christian blogs.” Ah, thanks Grandpa. Actually, neither do the rest of my atheist in-laws so… I’m good.
The great thing about Grandpa is it takes very little to make him really happy. Astoundingly all it takes is a bag of Cheetos. Granted, it can’t be just a snack size bag or any kind of “generic” brand, it has to be the real deal: a big ol’ bag of cheezy orange processed goodness.
And Cheetos, it turns out, make great babysitting barter for Grandpa! When he graciously comes over, my husband and I give the usual instructions “Don’t let the baby fall asleep on the floor  and make sure the kids don’t touch the furniture with Cheeto hands” and then head off to a much needed sanity dinner. When we come home and I’m Pinot Grigio happy and Grandpa’s basking in Cheeto afterglow we discuss “why?”. Why Catholic? Why Jesus? Why Atheist? Why choose? Why God? (and then my husband falls asleep in a chair). This is why Grandpa, the Cheetos loving Atheist, inspires me— because he makes me think not just about God but about “why God?”  Over a bag of Cheetos, he pushes me to a much deeper understanding of my faith. I assume it is an even exchange for him, just instead of why, he is exploring for himself and validating his decision for why not.
It’s funny yet a bit disturbing how Cheetos can help bring one closer to or farther from God. I’m thinking the gal that found Jesus in a bag of Cheetos most likely had this same realization.

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