Why is it that the conversations you never want to forget always happen when you’re on the move, with no way to record them for posterity?
En route to gymnastics tonight my five year old son was asking probing questions about the planets. It’s not my specialist subject at the best of times, and when the rain’s lashing down and the temperature has plummeted to 2 degrees without warning I suspect I’m not as communicative as he would like me to be.
“I don’t really know, pumpkin, let’s ask your brother later. He knows all about this stuff,” I said, laughing inwardly at my need to defer to the superior wisdom of a six year old.
“Why don’t you know this stuff, Mum?” he said with more than a note of pity in his voice.
“Well I learned it all a long time ago and I suppose I’ve just forgotten. I don’t spend much time thinking about the planets so it’s not information I need to hold on to.”
“You mean when you’re a grown-up you’re so busy having so much fun that you just forget about if the earth moves around the sun?”
I hope he’ll always look at me and think the reason I don’t know stuff is because I’m busy having so much fun.