Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's Bête Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Sunday, October 30, 2005

my immediate mammals taking a nap

will you take care of me?

My beloved spouse works swing shift on Sundays, so it's father-son time in our household. While I was cooking dinner tonight, the coming-on-3-year-old was in the other room when he asked, “Daddoo, are you old or new?”

I came to talk to him. “I'm middle-aged.” (I'm 42.)

“Are you going to die?”

“Some day. Hopefully not for a long long time. Everybody dies eventually.”

“Is Mommoo middle-aged?” (He came up with "Mommoo” and "Daddoo.”) "Is she going to die?”

“Hopefully not for a long long time.” (Neither of us is sick, to our knowledge.)

“After Mommoo dies will you take care of me?”

“Hopefully she won't die for a long long time, and you'll be grown up by then and able to take care of yourself.”

He liked that answer. “When I'm grown up I'll be a big big man and take care of myself!”

Before dinner we carved a pumpkin. “Make it scary!” I did my best.

“Ooh, it’s a scary pumpkin!” Pause. “Hello, pumpkin.” Pause. “It said, ‘Boo!’ That’s its way of saying Hello. It’s a nice pumpkin.”

Happy Hallowe'en.
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