At what age do our values make the switch from one structure to the next?

Recently Neen and I have been through some incredibly difficult challenges as a family. Today as I was on the couch (the couch in our lounge, as opposed to the psychiatrist’s battlefield) worrying about various issues, and important ones at that, about work, life’s purpose etc, I caught myself inadvertently ignoring my son. He was drawing, and chatting away, and I was mmm’ing absent-mindedly and not paying attention. He was absolutely riveted and thrilled by his ability to mix colours and create brown, and engrossed in the different effect other pencil crayons and crayons had.

(I had been drawing robot ants with him; I was just taking a break). There I was puzzling about existential issues, and there he was, deciding that pink was not a favourite colour. Sometimes we do wonderfully exciting trips with our children, and ask them afterwards what their favourite thing about the day was. More often than not, it is the seemingly least important segment of the day that leaves the greatest impression.

Go to beach? ‘I liked the dead seagull’.

Visit the Botanical Gardens? ‘I liked it when we saw the moon in the sky in the day’

Go to expensive restaurant? ‘I liked the onion rings’

I would be rhapsodizing about the crashing waves, the glorious flowers or the succulent steaks, so what makes us so different? We try to communicate, but why does it feel as though we are lacking a good translator?

Sometimes we go through issues as adults that we try to avoid letting James and Hannah hear about. They demand the truth. It is upsetting for them to see us cry, and difficult for us to articulate the truth in a child-friendly way. I could say that we are sad because a friend has died, and they are ‘Oh…. Can we play soccer now?’

They lack the sentimentality of adulthood. We expect them to miss us when we are not around, but give them something to occupy their minds and they are blissfully happy. Is this true joy? Is it fickle? Is it just being a child?

Me’n James

I’m so depressed (I like the red crayon too),

I would get dressed (Why bother, there are other things to do),

But I’ve nothing to wear (Who cares if clothes match, or if they’re new?)

Doesn’t anybody care? (I think I’ll paint… No wait, I’ll glue)

I’ve lost my job (Can I have a biscuit, can I?)

I’m such a slob (Can you make a sandwich with apple pie?)

I’ve just heard my friend is dead (Can I go outside?)

I’ll take to my bed (Then you count to ten, I’ll hide)

I got a raise! (Daaaad! I grazed my kneeeeee!)

Work really pays! (Look, there’s blood, can you see?)

I’m ill! Too ill to work (I’m not tired, really, I’m not)

I ache, everything seems to hurt (I’m cold, I’m hot, I’m cold I’m zzzz)

Thank you for indulging me.

Don’t you wish you could be innocent again?