There are those little moments that life sends us where we can’t help but laugh—for a lot of reasons.  And one of those moments came at me the other morning.  I sat at breakfast with my four year old who always astounds me with his ability to communicate thoughts, feelings, and perceptions.  His little motor mouth never stops moving, and I find myself working hard to really focus on

all his little thoughts.  I am smiling most of the day when he’s around because his honesty is refreshing, and he can put life in the most naked terms in about two seconds.  I relish in the workings of his busy and childish perspective.  My husband and I especially enjoy it because our older son has never been a child.  He was born at 102, and these little fresh moments are not his to share wide-eyed.

 

I bought one of those big boxes of corn flakes because it was on sale, and my husband loves them.  And little C was enjoying the pictures on the box because I usually buy those organic boring cereals that show you the nutritious side of eating instead of the joys of buying the product, like big commercial cereals!  That’s the good stuff!  And on the back are a couple stopped on their bikes, helmets aboard their skulls, looking fit, mid-thirties and ready to take a refreshing bike ride—probably after their hearty breakfast INCLUDING an invigorating bowl of Corn Flakes!  My son asks me, “Where are their kids, mom?”  I run through my annoying, philosophical mind bend…  Well, that’s a good question.  He looks at a couple on a cereal box and automatically wonders where their kids are.  Interesting, and we don’t have many friends without kids, come to think of it.  

 

“Well, maybe they don’t have kids.  They must be very sad.”  I smiled slyly.  I really don’t know why I answered that way because I don’t really believe people must have children, nor do I really want my kids to think so linearly.  There are many ways to live life, and I don’t want them programmed.  And then I realize I should probably take a freaking chill pill because why do I even think about that whole “programming” thing over a comment about a Corn Flakes box?  But so be.  And then I think I was just being playful too, acknowledging that there would indeed be a dark abyss of sadness and loneliness if I didn’t have my boys.  Okay, you see why therapy can help people.  But me, I prefer to wallow in my crazy.  But still, you see why therapy can be helpful… 

 

And to top of this sundae of a conversation, my sweet little boy, with the earnest eyes, looks at me and say, “no, mom, they look really happy.” 

And thus spake the corn flakes.  Is it possible?  Are there happy couples out there who eat bountiful bowls of cereal and ride about frivolously on bicycles without children?  And by happy, does that mean they are peaceful and calm, yellingless whilst they ride—not hearing whining or requests for snacks?  By really happy, would that imply that these people might have read the paper quietly before breakfast too or worked out every day this week or have jobs where they make lots of money and dress up every morning and go to happy hour in the evenings?  No, that couldn’t possibly be.  No, I am sure by happy, he meant, barely hanging on to the edge of that dark abyss I referred to, unknowingly missing out on the sleepless nights, runny noses, endless weekend birthday parties, play dates and story hours.  I am almost positive that by “happy”, he meant that these people would die sad and lonely and might even fall off their bikes and scrape their knees on the ride they are about to embark upon–childless.  Yep, that’s definitely what he meant.  I want to see some ragged people on those bikes, with pimples and dark circles!  That’s a much better ad!  And next to those virile looking peeps, I want to see children, lots and lots of small children!