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By the time you hear this, I most likely will have been woken up too early by my five-year-old daughter.

There won't have been time to put in my contact lenses, as is my preference,

so thickly bespectacled in a half awake haze, giant coffee mug in my hand,

the bitter caffeine and creamy half and half will slowly be infused with the sincere enthusiasm we only have as children and only truly

get to witness and half remember as parents.

My unwashed body will glow with her joy.

My sleep sour mouth will exclaim mildly, throat cracking a little, as Isabel delights in the reindeer's half-eaten carrot,

the cookie that Santa left behind alongside the crumbs of the one he apparently devoured appreciatively and the array of gifts, mostly for her, piled

around the incandescent tree. If your family participates, you'll probably be on the other side of your Christmas morning by now too.

Hello, Cons spirituality patrons. Merry Christmas if you're celebrating today. These are my atheist

reflections on belief, play, fantasy, parenting, cults, and religion.

It will hopefully be heartwarming for the first part,

especially once I get to talking about my five-year-old's lovey,

thought-provoking, and perhaps a bit taboo in the middle, and perhaps even

somewhat inspiring, but hopefully not to preachy by the end.

Yes, you heard me right.

We actually do have a tree, ornamented, lit up. Yes, my mother-in-law wouldn't miss for the world,

...