The Fog of Childhood

I have very clear memories of being five or six, if clear is the right word: the distinct impression I am left with of that time is one of experiencing reality through a fog, as if watching and listening from behind frosted glass. I can see now that I was incapable of completely engaging in the business of being myself in the world - as if conscious control of my own life was something I had not yet mastered.

This is something I need to bear in mind when I am exasperated by my children. Aged five and seven, they are always amazed when I know something.

"How do you know that!" they cry and I can only answer, "By being alive for thirty years!" I guess they'll get there one day, by which time maybe I'll have learnt to cut them some slack.

What prompted this thought? The long walk home from school. A time for them to pelt me with insane questions, or to terrify me with glimpses into the workings of their still-forming minds. Here is a near-as-dammit transcript of today's conversation.

Son 1: Dad, why is Valentine’s Day called Valentine’s Day?

Me: Well Valentine was probably a man who lived in Roman times who was killed for being a Christian.

Son 1: Why was he killed for being a Christian?

Me: Because -

Son 2: I’m a Crispian.

Me: Are you?

Son 2: Well, yeah because at Pre-K there was a kind of church thing and we sang songs and there was a lady who went on about Jesus ALL the time.

Son 1: So, why-

Me: (Suddenly alert) Shh 1 (To 2) That doesn’t mean you’re a Christian. Being a Christian means you believe in Jesus.

Son 2: Yeah, I believe in Jesus.

Me: You have to believe a specific thing.

Son 2: What?

Me: You have to believe that Jesus was the son of God and that he was killed so that everyone could have the chance to go to Heaven when they died. And you have to believe that when he died he came back to life.

Son 2: Seriously?

Me: Yes.

Son 2: Well, I’m not believing that. That’s silly.

Me: Well if you don’t believe it you’re not a Christian.

Son 2: Jesus died on a hill right? I do know that’s true because I saw a painting of it.

Me: You saw a painting? A painting isn’t proof.

Son 2: Yes it is.

Me: What if I painted a picture of you with an elephant on your head? Would that make it true?

Son 2: (attempting to balance his school bag on his head) What if there was an elephant on my head?

Me: That would be lovely but I’m saying that a painting isn’t proof that some thing’s true.

Son 2: (wistfully) It was awesome when Jesus died.

Me: Wow.

Son 1: So why was Valentine executed by the Romans?

Me: Because being Christian was against the law. The Roman government had its own religion.

Son 2: Well, I’m sure glad I’m not a Crispian! I don’t want to be electrocuted.

Me: No, executed. And it’s not illegal any more. Not here anyway. Maybe it’s best if you don’t make any decisions about this for a few more years eh?