Deep Thinker

My youngest child Justin is a goofball. At 11, he lives to make others laugh and loves to laugh himself. He has tons of buddies, plays lots of sports, and he loves school. 

Bedtime can bring out a different side of Justin. Every few months, Justin will trot down the stairs and come to me in the living room. Tonight was one of those nights. 

He usually wears a sheepish but tearful grin, along with his sleep shirt and shorts, a reminder that he's still a little boy. 

"Mom, I'm having those scary thoughts again," he says. Before you start to imagine monsters under the bed, or ghosts in the closet, let me capture a bit of the conversation.

"I was thinking about being immortal and how that wouldn't be great, but then I was thinking that if we go to heaven when we die, then we're there for forever, and doesn't that get boring?" 

Cue the tears. This joyful, silly jokester has BIG thoughts. Thoughts that take my own breath away, and frankly, are thoughts that keep adults up at night too. 

We talk about faith, and how heaven is probably great because you're so happy. 

"Yeah, but you don't know that, do you? Because nobody really knows. Like, we've never talked to someone who died." 

True. 

"Also Mom, if the universe is a loop, what's outside the loop?" He looks at me with big eyes, hoping for assurance. 

As I consider how to answer, he jumps in with, "Okay, but also, Mom, you know how people say the universe goes on forever? How does anyone know that if it hasn't all been explored?" 

"Umm, bud, these are big thoughts. These are things philosophers talk about. Why don't you think about baseball instead?" A philosopher, I am not. 

Listen, don't even get Justin going about black holes. I'm not sure there's anything more terrifying to him than the concept of a black hole. He knows just enough to be scared (which is more than I know). 

So I let him talk a bit, then reassure him that he's safe and loved. I distract him with thinking about baseball or vacation or the dog. I rub his back a bit and kiss his forehead (the only part of his face I'm allowed to kiss anymore). 

And then as I go to bed, I try not to think about black holes and heaven and the universe. Because Justin is right. That shit is scary!