“I wish you were my dad.”

Sunday, 9 January 2011

On the bus met an outgoing, articulate, good looking, talented little kid. Five year-old. He beat-boxed for us and we talked about Legos and Christmas shopping. He was well-adjusted and without demons. He was with his aunt. She was also friendly and talented.

After talking for five minutes about this and that he said, “I wish you were my dad.”

I said without hesitation, mind racing ahead to knock down the five wrong things that came to mind first, “You seem like a really fun kid, _____.”

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