This last summer I played a song in the car during a family outing. It's a particularly sad song, and contains the frequent refrain, "We're all gonna die."
It made my boys laugh like crazy.
They're six and seven, and I guess they're still in a place where grim existential realities are nothing more than unfounded rumors, or perhaps optional.
So every once in awhile I play it, or they will even ask for it, too. Peels of laughter ensue.
This morning I went to the well one more time. Nolan, my almost 8-year-old, was sitting on the floor, fist under chin, reflective.
"I wish I could laugh more," he said.
I said, "Yeah, that's what happens to us. When we get used to something, it doesn't have the same effect anymore."
"Yeah," he said. "I've been noticing that a lot, lately."