I was driving home with my 4-year-old son yesterday, watching a nice sunset, enjoying some time alone with him. He loves my little two-seater, although it had been raining a bit and we still had the roof up. We were chatting, singing along to the stereo (he loves The Sex Pistols and Flogging Molly ... it's great to train them young!). Then out of the blue he said: "My Nanny died."
"Yes," I said.
"Why?" (... that endless question that comes again and again ...)
"Well," I said, "she got very, very poorly, and then she died."
"Why?"
"Because that's sometimes what happens."
"Oh." He thought about things for a while. "So she's better now," he said.
I was going to say something more but decided not to. I spent a while thinking about what he'd said. She's better now. And I decided that's a nice way to think.
2 Comments:
From the mouths of babes, eh?
Those Lebbon boys... a smart lot, indeed.
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