As we were walking back to school with Wolfie, he stopped to pick up a small Y shape stick. He loves sticks, they are toys for him, he uses them for all sorts of games. I mentioned it before. With this particular stick, he broke down one of its end, making it look somewhat pistol or machine gun like. I noticed it straight away. So did he. And he said: "Now I have a rifle." My wife was bewildered. She asked: "Wolfie, how can you be such a boy?" A rethorical question she often asks herself, which is also a new great unknown line. I think my wife feels outnumbered sometimes and she never ceases to be amazed at how much her son's childhood world is so different than her own. She made peace with it, but she still gets shocked from time to time.
Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
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