“I love you,” said the seven-year-old boy whom I was driving to his karate lesson.
His three-year-old brother and two-year-old sister were in the back seat of the car with him. They are at an age where they act instinctively, so I always get lots of proclamations of love from them. The seven-year-old shows me that he loves me, but he rarely says it.
Today, however, I must have done something to deserve hearing how he felt about me.
“I love you, too,” I said.
“But,” he said, “I will love you … even when you’re dead.”
“That’s so nice,” I said.
He continued, “I’ll even go to your funeral.”
“Oh, thanks so much,” I said.
When do you think that will be?” he asked as we pulled into the parking lot.
“Hopefully, after I pick you up and take you all home,” I said, as I unlatched the buckles from his car seat and watched him enter the karate studio.
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