I have three kids, the oldest is four and he talks all the time. He is a happy outgoing fellow going blah-blah-blah all the time.*
I was taking him out to the countryside and he was going blah-blah-blah in the back seat as always. But some ten minutes before we arrived he went silent. I suspected he’d fallen asleep.
Eventually I stopped and opened the back door. He wasn’t a sleep, but very sad, tears in his eyes and just miserable. I never really experienced this before with him, being silent and sorrowful like this, I got down on my knees and asked him what was the matter?
Just able to speak without crying he said: “I don’t wanna grow old and die…”
In situation like these one hopes to be wise as an indian chief, but I just went “you… you… you won’t… I mean… you… you… shouldn’t…”
Because I was devasted, seeing this and hearing this from my lovely four year old son. I don’t know from where this sudden insight came, and of course he got over it within minutes.
I’ll never forget it, it was some timeless tragedy displayed there for a minute.
- According to the little fellow I’m talking about, he is not my son (in fact, my son lives in Africa) and the four year old I’m talking about is in fact Puss in Boots, or Master Cat. That’s what he says.