heavy light

Sometimes, when my son talks to me, he brings me along with his heavy then light stream of thoughts in a way that winds me nearly literally. Sometimes, it makes me grin so broadly that he and I match. Sometimes, it makes me stifle tears ready to slip.

T quotes du jour:
"What will it feel like to be dead? If I don't have my body, how will my spirit understand HOW to feel? Maybe it will be pretty funny... like, ummm, hello, I have no body. So, no, I will not be doing any work."

"So when you and Papa had me, I know that, because you're a woman, you got to have me in your belly. But why can't men have babies in their bellies? We all have bellies. (insert attempt at appropriate parental response) Oh, so it's the egg thing? And that word for women's bellies - uter... what? (pause) Was Papa sad that he couldn't have me in his belly? But, that would not be good for being born. It's not like a baby can squeeze out of a penis!"

"Do you think I'll ever be poor? (insert attempt at appropriate parental response) I just wonder because a lot of people don't have money for a house, food, and stuff. But, good thing is, I save my allowance. And try not to just buy junky stuff. Like that race car thing that was NOT what the picture on the package made it look like."

"Look at this book, Mama; it shows you right here how to build a treehouse that people live in. See, you just do this step and the next one and keep going. So, if we ever decide to live in the trees, I can build us a house. (pause) I think you should buy yourself a saw that you can use better than the one you used for when I built that table."

"Cancer is the worst sickness ever. I know people who have died from cancer. Like Papa's friend, Gabe. And I never even got to meet him. And Papa says that he's one of the nicest people he's ever known. And like Jaylie's mom. I think cancer is almost as horrible as war."

Round and round, the thoughts of a young child go. Ever curious, ever in balance. Ever heavy and light.