Today the son came home and said he saved a baby kitten from being eaten. Further questioning revealed that the kitten was tiny and the hunters were the modern-day descendents of dinosaurs. (Well the son said chameleons, but I guarantee you that chameleons aren't found in our part of town. So the other kind of wall-huggers they must have been.) Information was volunteered on how cute the kitten was and how tiny, and the fact that the hunter was smaller than the prey was quickly countered by the statement that there were many hunters. But then further questioning revealed that the hunters weren't exactly attacking. They may not even, wait for it, have actually been there. The conversation at this point had me in hysterical fits of laughter so we didn't get much further into the details, but a quick summary of events is as follows.
There was a kitten. Verrah cute. This is confirmed.
The kitten was either stuck on a wall or in a wall and was mewling.
There were electric supplies nearby, in a locked room, which the kitten could have hurt itself on.
There may or may not have been lizards prowling. They certainly weren't attacking the kitten at the moment.
The kitten, I repeat, was mewling.
And this is the most important line of all: The kitten was saved.
My eight-year-old sometimes makes very little sense. He has a tendency to repeat what his friends tell him, and not infrequently mixes up the chronology of events. And he absolutely falls apart when questioned. All of this is fine because he's still eight (or so I tell myself), but we work on it all the time. I tell him he must question everything and be kind to everyone. I figure these two mantras will see him through everything. I wish our generation had been taught as much. Then maybe we wouldn't have to deal with those who would rather hate blindly and who loose their cool completely when their prejudice is questioned.
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