My five-year-old is sitting at his little table this morning, eating some sliced avocado. He is completely naked – still undressed after his bath this morning, since tired, lazy mummy didn’t bother to bathe either of her kidlets before bed last night. He’s been walking around all nude like this for the past half hour or so. Sometimes it’s just like that in our house. Nekkid little kids and perfectly ripe, cool avocado slices. Perfect. It is summer, after all.
“You know what, mummy? An avocado is a fruit.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It doesn’t taste like a fruit though.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But I like them.”
“Oh, I’m so glad. I like them too. They’re delicious.” I prefer mine with a sprinkle of salt. He likes his au naturel. Much like his current state.
“Yes. I think they have carbohydrants. Those are good for you.”
I don’t bother to correct my little naked avocado-eater this time. Nor will I bother to tell him what super-fattening avocados can do to change a person’s bum over time… but I don’t care a wit about calories. Fattening = tasty. I like tasty. He has impossibly hard, high little buns anyway. He is terribly cute just the way he is.
G.G.
