That gorgeous little boy in the picture above….he’s climbing a tree and making his brother, who I have in my arms, laugh. He’s making me laugh too. Our laughing is making him laugh too. It’s one of those simple moments in life that I will remember always. Photos help to do that I think which is why I’m addicted to taking photos of my children.
That same little boy crawled into bed with me this morning well before 6am. It’s a kindy day today and he knows he’s not allowed to watch any television until he’s ready for kindy but he likes watching the weather so asks me if I can turn the news on for him. I do.
The first image I see is one of a man yielding a knife, covered with blood. Like a televised version of Lady MacBeth. I recoil in horror, trying not to let it show to him and reach for the remote immediately.
“Mama, why did he have paint on his hands? Is he chopping meat with that knife?”
I change the subject as quickly as I can. Hug him. Hide my tears. Ask him about his favourite topic of the moment – baby seahorses being “held” in their Dad’s bellies.
The world can be so cruel and I don’t want him to know this. Not ever really. Not now for sure.