For a kid who loves air-guitaring to rock and roll, munching on carrot sticks, drawing aliens and playing wii golf… my 4 year old son comes up with some superb brain-hurting questions:
“If God made everything and everyone… then who made God?”
“Hey if I had a dream, and then I woke up, what if this is a dream, and when do I wake up?”
“When grandma dies, will she come back as grandma? Or do you think she can choose who she wants to come back as?”
“And what if every adult died at the same time? Like if a big rock fell from space. And it could only kill the tall people. How will there be more kids?”
“Are there other countries on different planets in space? And how do you know that?”
And my favourite…
“Why do adults have to work anyway? If they need money, why don’t they just rob a bank?”
I love the kid. Really I do. I also love chatting to him and answering the questions in four year old language.
But what I can’t STAND… is when he asks me a question in a quiet waiting room of a doctor’s surgery… and everyone in the room hears it, and from the corner of my eye, I can see everyone’s ears prick up, and lean a little closer so they can listen in.
(But before you think he’s a genius – that isn’t a colour abnormality in the photo above. Yes, that’s a green smudge on the side of his mouth because he likes to suck on textas.)