Ah, it started out innocently enough. R, the 5 yr old: “I wish I was a grown-up.” He had woken up after half an hour by a bad dream; came downstairs and saw me reading a magazine. The glamour of grown-up life. He then talked me into some grannilla (granola) and I promptly returned to my dishwashing duty. We talked about all the responsibilities that come with being a grown-up and the myraid of fabulous things about being a kid. So, yeah, he basically got the don’t-wish-your-life-away schpiel. I did include that, like me, if he was a grown-up he would still be awake doing things like working or the dishes. “I’ll just marry someone to do the dishes.”
Houston, we’ve got a BIG problem...!
