Today my youngest child asked me if skeleton keys were real. I told him yes, and explained what they were and that we had a couple in our old (very old) house.
He was quite impressed, and said he hadn't realized such keys truly existed. "I thought they were Greek myths" he said.
He has an older brother in his twenties. When that child was young, I'd have corrected such a comment, explaining what Greek Myths were and how he'd used the wrong term. I'd have given him more correct alternatives. I'd have launched into a retelling of at least three actual Greek Myths. I'd have gone on and on about it, long after the child had tuned me out and was probably thinking about how to defeat King Koopa in Mario II.
How do our eldest children survive us? I think the oldest children are "practice kids".
I knew, today, that by "Greek Myth" my youngest son just meant something that wasn't real, but was pretty darn cool to think about. I understood him, and didn't need to "correct". Instead, I could listen and maybe really hear.
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