‘If you don’t let me go on the computer later, I’m going to kill you,’ the Bombshell hissed at me.
I raised my eyebrows at her, and glanced back in the rear view mirror. My heart was racing at the thought of my not-even-seven-year-old using such violent language, but outwardly (for once) I maintained my cool. It doesn’t happen much – only when people at threatening to kill me.
‘Really? That’s not a very nice thing to say,’ I told her, Queen of the Understatement.
The Mop piped up: ‘If you kill Mum, she will be really angry at you.’
I could see I needed to speak with my four year old about what death really meant, but I was also a bit miffed that she wasn’t otherwise concerned about me being… well… dead!
‘If I kill her, she won’t be able to do anything anymore,’ the Bombshell told her.
At least someone understood the gravity of the topic.
‘If I am dead I certainly won’t be able to let you go on the computer anymore, will I? I won’t be able to do anything for you anymore.’
There was silence in the car. Briefly.
‘I don’t think you should kill your Mum,’ the Mop finally said, quietly.
Inside I cheered, at least one of them didn’t hate me for not letting them sit in front of the computer for hours on end.
The Mop turned around in her car seat to see the Bombshell, sulking in the backseat. ‘How would you kill her?’ she asked.
‘I would go and buy a big gun and shoot her,’ the Bombshell decided.
The Mop shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t get a big knife and cut her up?’
I had to intervene.
‘This is a lovely conversation you two are having. You realise I am still here, right? Driving the car. I can hear you both. By the way,’ I added, ‘there will clearly be no more Tom and Jerry for you two. Ever.’
Bloody Tom and Jerry, who keep coming back from the dead every episode. No wonder kids don’t think death is permanent and serious. Not to mention that threatening to kill people is a punishable offence in the normal world.
The Mop said quietly, ‘and if you killed mum, all her friends would miss her.’
‘I wouldn’t miss her,’ shot back the Bombshell.
‘The rest of the family would miss her,’ said the Mop, sadly.
I wouldn’t,’ Bombshell said stubbornly, although her voices had lost its bravado.
We had pulled into the car park by this stage, and were sitting in the car, still strapped into our seats.
‘Please don’t kill me,’ I asked her, looking directly at her via the rear view mirror.
|You are now BANNED! from my house|