Funny thing about Fat Tuesday. I feel fat. And it’s Tuesday. I should write something in depth about Lenten sacrifice, but my sugar coma is kicking in, and I am feeling a little sleepy.
I did something tonight that I have long criticized others for doing – I decided upon what I was going to give up for Lent (desserts) and I then completely gorged on it. I chose to give up desserts because I have very few vices left. I don’t smoke, I only drink occasionally, and I don’t drink soda, so that limits the traditional Lenten options. So, foregoing desserts it is.
A first grader in my class said today that he wanted to give up sin for Lent. “Ok,” I replied, “but that’s a little vague. What kind of sin?”
“I don’t know… Maybe killing people?”
“Oh, uh, well, how many people have you killed lately, Chris? Don’t you think you should choose to give up a sin that you have actually been guilty of doing?”
“Ok. How about lying?”
“Good. No more lying.”
“But I can lie all night tonight, right? Since it’s Fat Tuesday?”
This is what I didn’t want to happen. We shouldn’t commit a big pile of sin before we commit to giving it up. Fat Tuesday is the hooker laden bachelor party in which any groom in his right mind should never participate. Chris should never lie, not tomorrow or tonight, and I should never single-handedly eat an entire maple brownie à la mode, not tonight or ever. Yet here we are. He’s probably heaping untruths upon his mother, and I am unbuttoning my pants.
Last year, I went big for Lent. I tried to give up saying anything unkind about anyone, either in public or in private. That seriously lasted until about 6:20 a.m. on Ash Wednesday, when some jerk couldn’t wait his turn at a four way stop. This year I can be as crabby as I want to be, which is excellent considering there are still Thin Mints in the house.