My precious grandson

I have the privilege of having brought Sebastian home with me for a week.

He is six.  

He talked all of the way from his house to Culverden - that's over an hour pretty much without pause.  Included in the conversation was why there are are clouds in the sky, an indepth lecture on heart rate and blood pressure (correct in all detail) and a wee segment on why we have mountains and what they are made out of. Please note that I didn't get a word in edgewise - he told me all of this and was basically correct in all details.  He also told me all about the Christchurch bus system and that it was essential for boys to have hot chips when we stopped at Culverden.

Hey, he's six years old and knows more about heart rhythms than I do so I wasn't going to argue on a small matter like chips.  We stopped at Culverden at 11 and had the obligatory coffee (for me), juice (for him) and hot chips with tomato sauce (also for him).  

I was then advised that it was necessary to stop less than an hour down the road at St James Tarn to have lunch from his lunch box.  We did that but I hadn't packed a lunch for me so we decided that it would also be good to stop at Springs Junction (20 minutes further on) to buy me a sandwich.  When we got there Sebastian thought he should come in with me in case there was something he wanted too.

It turned out there was - another pottle of hot chips and a raspberry slice.  I was certain that it was impossible for him to eat it after all that he'd already eaten.  I was wrong.

He slept after that - obviously replete.  But when we got home almost the first thing he asked was, "What are we having for tea?"

I had obviously forgotten just how much 6 year olds can eat.  And talk!

And when he spilled his lemonade on the couch he came to me and said, "Now Gran, I don't want you to be angry at me, but . . . "  Such a love!  At least he confessed so that I could clean it up.