When it comes to religion or philosophy, or anything worth any substance, my dad and I rarely agree. Truth be told, he and I do not really talk to each other often. I cannot really say why, either. Our conversations are limited to the mundane, and chiefly revolve around the every day things we need in the house.
But meh. On occasion Dad does feel fit to ask me questions. The other night he asked me if the universe was infinite. The conversation inevitably shifted over to whether there is a God, and I was able to tell him my particular thoughts on religion.
He does give me credit for being a smart girl, I suppose. While he probably doesn’t agree with my ideas, he’s aware that I don’t just accept everything.
Dad just doesn’t think I have common sense sometimes, which is why he’s constantly trying to get me to do things his way. True, I don’t always do things the easy way, but oh well. I still get things done.