Friday, August 8, 2008

A Lot of Love

Jack's interest in the world of love and romance has increased this summer.

I blame McLeod's Daughters for some of it. It IS a soap opera, after all. And soap operas are about love.....well, also deep dark secrets and betrayal.

I guess I also need to blame his age. When I worked at the Cystic Fibrosis Camp, I was shocked to find six-year-olds as excited about the dance as some of the teenagers. They were all into having dates and looking beautiful for their dates.

April, one of my favorite little girls was eight and had an actual camp boyfriend. Alan. And here I was, a counseler. Sixteen-years-old and I had never had a boyfriend before. But eight-year-old April has a boyfriend. How fair is that?

Anyway, when playing McLeod's Daughters, Jack sometimes likes to act out the more romantic parts. He grabs my arm and kisses it in a way that has made me say several times these past few weeks. "Jack, please stop. I'm not your girlfriend."

Fortunately, he never seems very wounded by my words. He just changes the play a bit.

I said it yesterday again.

He said. "Why? You don't love me that much?

I replied. "No. I love you MORE than that much. I just love you differently."

He seemed to accept that.

I talked about what we've talked about many times before. The love of a parent for a child can never really compare to any other type of love.

I ended the conversation in the same way I usually end these conversations. "Maybe one day you'll have a child and then you'll understand."

Hopefully that child will be half-Australian.

Oh! Speaking of that. The other day we were cleaning--putting stuff in the attic. I asked if we could put some of his old baby stuff up there. He said sure. I said jokingly (well kind of) "we'll save it for your Australian children."

Jack said. "I wonder what kind of accident they'll have."

I thought Geez. If you don't want to marry an Australian, just say so. Or just go your own way. You don't have to be all passive aggressive and hope your own child has an accident.

I said. "What?"

He repeated himself. "I wonder what kind of ACCENT they'll have?"

Oh! Okay!