Yesterday I was sitting on the couch plucking my eye brows when I noticed a gray hair on my head. Mind you....I don't have many (yet) but with my dark hair, even one stands out. So....I pulled it out. Lundi saw me and said "Ooooh, can I do that Mom?" I said "Sure." So she runs over to me, perches herself up on the back of the couch behind me and starts digging through my hair in true primate fashion. She found another, and another and then another. With each new found silver streak, she asked permission to pull it out, which I gladly granted. After she had found ten or so, I commented on how I must be getting old. I didn't think much more about it.
Later that night when Mike got home, Harrison went down into the office to talk to Mike alone. He said (in all seriousness) "Papa, I hate to be the one to tell you this.........but Mommy has grey hair." He said "Ya I know, I have a few, too." Mike assured him that it was part of being a grown up and he might have them some day, too. Harrison moved on in a typical six year old manner....returning to his cars. So later (after the kids were in bed) Mike recounted this conversation to me. I (of course laughed) had no idea that it bothered him so much. The next day I said "Harrison, did you tell Papa about my grey hair?" He said "Ya, bit it's OK. You will still live, right Mommy?" I realized then that he thinks that grey hair (Like 95 year old Laurette) is equal to being very, very old. We have explained to the kids that Laurette might die soon, as she is very old. I can only conclude, from this conversation, that in his (six year old) mind these few grey hairs would soon lead to my passing away. I re-assured him that even young people sometimes have grey hair, and that I wasn't really that old and would be around for a long time to be his Mommy. He smiled, hugged me and it was over just like that.
Sometimes we just never know how they are going to interpret the things we say.
The mind of a six year old.