My five-year-old son and I sat at a table at a cafe. I ordered a cup of tea. He asked for apple juice.
As we waited for our drinks, he said: "Can I come here on my own when I’m old and have tea?"
"Yes of course you can", I said. "Do you want some tea today?" I offer him coffee or tea each morning, as a joke. He always tells me he’s not allowed.
He shook his head and said, "When I’m older I want to be able to go here by myself and order tea."
One night, as my wife and I read him a bedtime story, he said one of my favourite things. In the story, a boy was near the sea, trying to catch a star. There was a drawing of the boy walking along a boardwalk, looking at the sky. My son, who was then four, pointed at the boy in the book and asked: "Why would he go outside without his mummy and daddy?"
It struck me as a perfectly reasonable and sweet question that also broke my heart a little. I know that soon enough he won’t want me and my wife with him all the time. He won’t want to hold hands when crossing the street. He won’t want us to pick him up and carry him to his bed when he’s too sleepy to walk. He won’t want us to comb his hair or accept a hug when we say goodbye at school. The little guy I’ve played with and gone outside with for the last few years will want to go out and have a cup of tea on his own -- or, in any case, without me.
"What are these?" He pointed towards the sugar cubes, which were irregularly shaped blocks of white and brown sugar.
I told him what they were, then added, "They’re for grown ups to put in coffee and tea." I said. When I was growing up I used to collect sugar packets that had - to me - unusual pictures, like boats or landscape paintings. I used to sneak them into my pockets and, later, eat directly from the packet at home.
"Do you want sugar?" my son asked.
I told him I did.
"You put sugar in your tea but not your coffee?" he asked.
"That’s right. I like sugar and milk in my tea but just milk in my coffee."
He looked out the window and watched an overground train approach the nearby station. "I hope it has the number five on it." The previous week we’d seen trains that had a big five at the front of their front carriage.
"Were there any fives?" I asked when his focus returned to our table.
He shook his head and moved the sugar bowl closer to my tea.
"Do you want me to put the sugar in?"
"Yes." He put a sugar block in the tea. "One more?" he asked.
"Yes."
He picked up the milk pitcher. "Do you want milk, too?"
I told him I did and he started pouring the milk.
After setting down the small white pitcher he said: "I’ll do the stirring and you do the drinking."
"Perfect," I said.
