Lydia, who was sitting upside down in an old recliner next to her mother, sighed. “Daddy,” she said, “How long is it until my birthday?”

I glanced at a calendar and did some quick math. “One week and four days from now.”

She cheered and tumbled sideways out of the chair. Then she scampered back up onto the overstuffed arm like a squirrel that had fallen into a lake.

While she panted with excitement I continued, “But I have some bad news,” still looking at the calendar.

“What’s that?” She was upside down again, her legs frantically riding an invisible bicycle.

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but this year your birthday is on a Monday.”

She fell over sideways again with a terrible groan. “Uuuuugh! Nooo!” She shook a fist in the air, somersaulted, and bounced back onto her mother’s lap. The squirrel covered her face with both hands and wailed. Then, after a few seconds of silence, she dropped her hands and said calmly, “Okay, what’s a Monday?”

Her mother and I just shook our heads and laughed at our little homeschooler. We then explained to her about Mondays, but in recollection, I kind of wish we hadn’t. I mean, I can’t imagine a better life that I could give my children than one that is innocent of the knowledge of Mondays. Is that not the most delicious thought? Would that not be true freedom? Not even knowing what a Monday is. Wow…

Is there a way to go back to that? Is there a way to sit upside down in a chair in the center of the garden, counting down the days until your birthday, completely innocent of the terrible tree that leans above you and the terrible fruit that hangs heavy from its branches, and the serpent that coils its way up its sides. “This is the tree of the knowledge of Mondays,” he hisses. “Don’t you want to know about Mondays?” And we could be six-years-old and could gently look around at the rest of the garden, and all the other beautiful and sweet fruit of youth, and we could shake our head politely and say, “No thank you, Sir. I would rather not know what Mondays are.” And that would be the end of it. We would never know. How wonderful would our lives be then?