Do you love me? You asked me that question every day.
I know.
Ten times a day some days.
I know.
Now you’re grown, tell me why.
I wasn’t the most obedient child.
You can say that again. I loved you anyway.
You told me off.
Of course I did.
I didn’t want to be told off.
Every day you got up to something. Your brother or some other child in the neighbourhood went home crying because of you.
I couldn’t help it. I liked getting up to mischief.
I know. Then you suddenly stopped. What made you decide that you hated being told off more than getting up to mischief?
I ate and swallowed a worm.
You did?
I picked an apple from the tree in the garden. It looked fine on the outside. I cut it and one side was full of worms. I put the wormy half on Tommy’s plate, flat, so they were hidden. When I wasn’t looking Tommy swapped our plates. Shortly after we played a speed eating game. The first to finish their apple would win.
I walked in on the two of you. I remember saying you better eat everything on your plates and not to play with your food.
That apple tasted vile. My bit of mischief backfired.
I still love you. I believe your brother does too.