Tuesday 10 March 2015


There is a moment before the King falls asleep that I experience true envy. After books, etc, it usually takes him about three minutes to settle in, get comfortable, utter something about what he wants to do the next day or who is taking him to school and then I hear his breathing change, and his quiet little snore kick in. It is at this moment I think to myself, my god I wish I were four. Obviously, aside from what snack food to have, or what activity is on deck, one’s four year old brain is not that complicated (then again, it is at times erratic as hell, but that’s another story) or full of what weights the average adult brain down. It’s not like the King is thinking about house prices or looming taxes. Hence, I would fully hope he would fall asleep in four minutes flat. But there is such a pure surreal quality to it, especially to an insomniac, that I literally lie next to him, praying that some of it rubs off on me.

By nature, I’m not an envious person. Maybe the odd flicker here or there when I see a tall person (yes, I will fully admit I have tall envy) or the eternal possibilities possessed by the youth (that is often wasted, damn them!) but overall, I don’t spend too much time looking over on someone else’s side of the fence wishing I had what they did. But when it comes to watching someone who possesses so much unbridled energy as a four year old does, it’s hard not to want to bottle some of it. The other day, the King ran down to the public pool (he’s now decided he wants to run everywhere while his father times him), swam for 40 minutes, then road his bike two miles to the west end, then walked part of the way home, then ran off to the park with his friend later that afternoon. At that point, I was in need of a pillow, but with a few dips here or there (usually solved by copious amounts of food), the King was ready to kick ass and take names by dinnertime. How this is possible is beyond me. I often just follow him around asking him, 'aren't you tired yet?' I'm sure he thinks I'm a total drag trying to rain on his energy parade.

The other thing that is hard not to envy (aside from their skin of course, god I wish I had that much collagen) is their view of the world. There is humour in pretty much anything; half the time I’m trying to figure out what is so funny (esp about poo-poo. Really? why?!) Simplistic pleasures are plentiful and tantamount (I mean, give a child chocolate and it’s as if you have bought them a new car). They do not get hung up on colour, race (funny enough, the King truly believes he and his father are three shades darker than they are, no clue why he thinks this as we have never uttered a word about it, but it could be due to my deep seated love of Idris Elba) religion or politics. Can you imagine if they did? 'Well, I think David Cameron is just a poo-poo head.' Profound words, King. Their emotions are pure and unrestrained, and in their mind, the world is not only black and white/bad or good (the King is obsessed with telling me how bad the food is in jail), but it’s pretty much their world. In their minds anyway. 

So you see, a confident little person that spends their time laughing, loving and talking about jail and poo-poo, with cheeks full of collagen, that falls asleep in three seconds flat. 

What’s not to envy, really?

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