Dinnertime secrets with Duncan, age four.
During dinner Duncan said, “Mommy, can I whisper something to you?”
I usually do not like secret-telling at the table– it is rude to those excluded– but he had been out of sorts since I picked him up from preschool and, not wanting to preclude him opening up about what had upset him, I leaned my ear down close and strained to listen.
“I’m not actually a boy,” he whispered, barely audible.
“Really?” I whispered back.
“So… what are you then?”
“Yes. I am a bubble.”
“Who turned you into a bubble?”
“Nobody. I’ve always been this way.”
“Okay… well, boy or bubble, I love you just the way you are.”
And he let out a great sigh of contentment, kissed my wrist, and went back to eating his spaghetti.