My daughter has been on a real kick lately about not wanting to grow up. She wants everything to stay the same. She doesn’t want her parents getting older either. Big tears well in her eyes and she starts weeping about my impending death.
I say I’m not planning on dying soon.
She says You will someday and it will be horrible.
Yes, I’m touched, but mostly I’m thinking Jeez I must be really letting myself go lately. It is true that I’m in desperate need of a haircut. And yes, I haven’t been slapping on that kind-to-others bit of make up for the school run. (Don’t want to scare the horses, my mother would say when she put on her lipstick every morning).
To cheer her up I said Just think when you’re grown up you can get yourself a puppy. I won’t be able to say no.
But it doesn’t seem to help.
And she’s right of course. We are all going to die eventually. Some sooner than others. But it’s something that you manage not to think about so much when you get older. I even told her that. I said that’s another thing to look forward to: Denial.
Then I patted her on the shoulder and made an appointment for a haircut.
photo by Tambako the Jaguar (flickr)