I was eating dinner last night and my four year old son casually says to me, “Hey, nice watch.” “Thanks.” I replied. “Where’d you get it?”, he continued. “From my brother.” I said. I wasn’t quite sure how to explain that in inherited it when he passed away in February of 2002.
“Oh… He give it to you?” “Well… yes… when he died.” I said. “Oh… They don’t allow watches in the cemetery?” “Well, I guess when people die they really don’t need watches any more.” “Oh”, he said… seeming to finally be satisfied with this line of questioning and as to the origins of my watch and why my brother might decide to part with it.
I watched him for a few minutes eating his dinner, and, well, being four. Mostly when he sits at the dinner table he does anything and everything but eat. I spend most of my dinner telling him to eat his. A little perpetual motion machine with boundless energy, he is as impish as he is lovable.
He’s a cutie!