Life, death and the existence of God

I am often amazed by the conversations my kids have, especially about the really big topics - life and death, the existence of God.

This morning, whilst getting coats and shoes on ready to go to school, five year old Addy and three year old Dylan were talking about not wanting to die. I interjected in my usual matter of fact 'let's try not to make a big deal of this' way that no one lives for ever. The following conversation ensued:


Me:      No one lives for ever.

Addy:  God does.
            God gave us all of this stuff.
            But he didn't want us to all squash each other so he gave us dying.

Dylan: God is nice.

Addy: What he said.

Dylan: I want to see god.

Addy:  He is up in the clouds, like a giant.
            You will have to fly really high.
            You'll have to find a bird and hold onto his legs and the bird will flap like this (runs around flapping wildly).
            It will be dangerous.
           Are you sure you want to go?
           You will miss us because we will be way down here.
           Are you sure?
           Cos you are precious.
           We don't want you to die.
           Are you sure?
           If the bird drops you it might hurt.
           You might fall into a a spiky bush.

Dylan: I'll stay here.
            I want mum to look after me.

Me:     (hugs them both tightly with a heart full of love)

Tangled

I am very glad that I didn't make a promise in my New Year action plan to blog daily. I would have failed miserably already.

This picture of my knitting after I had spent the best part of 40 minutes untangling the mess my little boy made of the ball of wool seems to be synonymous with my life at the moment. I work hard to create some sort of order but chaos still reigns.

I have had similar tangles in my hair to contend with.

On Saturday, my body was exercised, stimulated and pampered with all that The Fairlawns Spa, Walsall had to offer on a day out with my sister and niece. My skin felt soft and smooth but my hair had been frazzled by saunas and steam rooms and had a generous caking of mud from my over enthusiastic application technique during the mud treatment we had booked.  On Sunday, I added to the disaster of what should be my crowning glory when I painted the ceiling in my daughter's new living room. The 'value' emulsion I was using rained down on me with every roll of the roller. Much washing, conditioning and brushing later and I am still more Worzel Gummidge than Rapunzel.

Hair-wise, it could be worse. My little Addy loves to climb up onto her daddy's shoulders (whether he wants her to or not!). My husband does not like to admit that he is thinning in top - preferring to refer to his bald spot as a 'prominent crown'. It was with such an earnest tone that she said to him from her vantage point - Daddy, you've got a hole in your hair.