Philosophers aka toddlers.

Part time toddlers, part time philosphers, my children.
I was trying to break it to them gently.
'Well, life isnt actually fair, ' I explained one day, 'sometimes things work out the way you want, and sometimes it doesn't'
Thats just the way it is...
'Yeah, ' agreed Big Brother, 'here's one I learnt at school -
Life is....' pregnant pause,'..Life.'
'THats very true, dear,' was about all I could muster in reply.

Another day -
'How old are you, Mummy?'I was asked from the back seat
'I'm thirty-six' I replied truthfully thinking, (how did i get to be so old???)
'You must be nearly dead!;' Little brother exclaimed.
I was lost for words, but luckily,-
'No, thats not that old! ' Big Brother and his lovely cousin agreed ' you might be dead when you are one hundred.'
'My great granny lived to 104!' our lovely wee cousin explained.
'Well, 'I said, taking a big breath and just diving on in there, 'no-one knows how long we might live, people can die at any age, but the important thing is to enjoy everyday with the people we love.'
Silence.
Longer silence.
(Although there is a lot to look at in the way of diggers and wind turbines along seaview road).
Then the clanger.
'Why do we live, ' asked our lovely cousin who is obviously wise beyond her years, 'if we are just going to die?'
Silence. (Me, this time)
'That is such a great question' I replied (throwing it right back at you!) 'what do you think?
'Ooh, ooh, ' clambered Big Brother to keep up the existential pondering, 'I've got a really good question....(pause)...'who made God?'
Silence. Me, again.
'That is a good question?' Who do you think?'
'Well', said the wise cousin, 'I think a bit broke off from the sun, and then turned into the earth and that's where everything came from.'
Luckily, we arrived at our destination.

Rugby Fever

We are so thrilled to be able to report that after 9 weeks or so, Little Brother has made it off the sidelines and onto the rugby field for his first game! He's been going to practice and games every week all this time, but hasn't quite made it over the scary line onto the paddock !
It has been a self imposed bench-time, (or in the case of practice he has spent most weeks up the nearest tree). He was keen as at the start of the season, and loves the kit. His new boots (smallest size possible), green and yellow Eastbourne socks (that reach righ to the lower limits of his buttocks for extra warmth on windy days) and jersey were a huge hit from day one, but watching the other kids play, he immediately voted himself off the team, telling us that he's not fast enough to get rips. Maybe when Im older, he thought. Another day he mused 'Perhaps we could go to the Library and get a book on how to play rugby'. 'Good idea,' I replied, 'but to get better at something you actually just have to practice and practice it.'
It's taken a few weeks to convince him. He's been practicing getting into his boots, climbing trees and enjoying the oranges at half time. He's also had a lot of practice drinking his aftermatch lemonade.
Last Thursday we had a breakthrough when I told them we were off for the Team photo. 'Do I have to play rugby?' he asked, 'Not today, just sit on the chair and look like a rugby player.' He was right into that idea - and lined up, marched on and sat in the front middle of the team pulling a range of serious 'rugby' faces as the camera flashed. 'That was jool' (cool) he told me.
And then, this saturday, he held Dad's hand as he toddled off to join the team for warm up. Then the inspired team manager suggested he should perhaps carry the ball onto the field for kick off. He agreed, and to his and our surprise he played the whole game.
'Rugby is jool fun' he said afterwards, as we stripped off his first-time-ever muddy uniform and scrubbed his skinny muddy knees.