Deathfart

Shortly after going up to get ready for bed, m’boy reappeared and distraught, he held me in a tight embrace and sobbed as he told me that he didn’t want to die.

He then farted and stunk the place out, whereupon he was informed that if he carried on doing that right under my nose, death would be with him much sooner than anticipated.

I should add at this stage that he is in rude health and to the best of my knowledge not suffering from any illness or affliction which is set to take his young life any time soon, although judging by the smell which I swear is still lingering in the house, he may need a dietary review.

I remember very distinctly the first time that I became aware of my own mortality and I think I was of a similar age to m’boy. I did exactly the same as he did (minus the flatulence) and sought comfort from parents who I knew were sure to tell me that I was going to live forever, but sadly (and obviously) there were no crumbs of comfort to be had. 

M’boy and I had a frank conversation about it all and the inevitability and cycle of life. We discussed the possibility of an afterlife and who believes what, which he seemed to take on board before calming down - although I think he had a difficult night’s sleep.

He told me that he was OK this morning and had things a little straighter in his head, but it will be interesting to see how the next few days play out in this regard.

Today’s photo was taken on our walk home from after-school club. Shortly thereafter they dumped their school bags and I took them for the divorced dad special: tea at McDonald’s. 

I am now wondering if demolishing his very first Big Mac is what got him thinking about death…