Max tends to get very philosophical at night when I’m tucking him in. It seems as if lying on his back in the dark for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling with a parent propped up on an elbow next to him is the key that unlocks the door that holds all the profound questions of the universe.
I’m not kidding, we’ve covered all the biggies in these minutes before bed: What is the meaning of life? What is the purpose in death? If God created the universe, then who created God? Are aliens real? Where did we live before we were born? Why will Christian always be older than him? Who would win in a battle—Iron Man or Hulk?
Sometimes he stumps me with his questions and my tired mind begins to wave a white flag of surrender. I want to tussle his cornsilk hair and say, “I don’t know, sweetie. You’re five-years-old; you don’t have to figure this out right now. Let’s talk about boogers or something else age-appropriate.”
Last night, we were visiting one of his favorite subjects—the planets. Is the moon a planet? Is Earth the biggest planet? Which one is the purple planet? Do you think there are animals on any of the other planets?
Then he said to me, “I wish there were two Earths.” (Well, actually, he said, “I wish there were two Earfs.”)
“Why?” I asked.
“One Earf for fighting and one Earf for no fighting.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“One Earf would have like all the fighting and shooting and punching and bazookas and killing and the other Earf would have none of that.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I said. “Which one do you want to live on?”
“The ‘no fighting’ Earf.”
That actually came as a bit of a surprise; the kid really likes his Nerf guns.
“Me too, Max.” Me too.
But this morning I have a deep question of my own—will the “no fighting” earth still have goth baby and emo baby? Because those two really crack me up.
