“Mumma! It’s beautiful out here! You should have the front door wide open!”
“Yes, baby, it is beautiful. I have the window on the door wide open, but I keep the door closed so that the bugs don’t come inside.”
“Ah. Well, you better close the window at night though. It might storm.”
“Oh, I will. And it’s safer that way too.”
“Yes. From bad guys. And robbers. [pauses to think] Mumma, you should have your purse in your room. And hold on to it!”
“I should, should I? Well, I can put it in my room, but I’m not going to sleep holding onto my purse.”
“Well, okay, but you’d better zip it up and put it under your bed then.” [whispering like we are co-conspirators] ” ’cause, you know. Robbers.”
Then off she skips into the backyard, her head full of blonde curls bouncing joyfully with each step she takes, clearly without a care in the world. And I’m left standing in our foyer, broom in hand, now worrying about home invasions and losing my purse while trying to figure out how my five-year-old is so security conscious and why, when I was five, my main concern was with how to avoid eating the peas at lunchtime without being caught by the daycare Gestapo.
Sometimes my life makes my head hurt.