I was tucking Kit into bed tonight and asked how his counseling meeting went this week.
“Fine,” he said.
“Do you like seeing him two weeks in a row?” I asked.
“Sure. Maybe I could see him more than that.” he suggested.
I pulled his blanket up around his chin and explained that people don’t see therapists more than once a week unless they’re really troubled.
“Like if they can’t find their keys?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
It zoomed me back to a talk I had with Buddy when he was that age. Same situation: tucking him in and answering a last question for the day. He wanted to know why we need taxes. I explained that taxes pay for the fire department and schools and building roads.
“You mean they pay for speed bumps?”
Something like that,” I said.
