Kitten Metaphysics

Katherine’s assembling of disparate information and conversational threads into new configurations continues to grow in sophistication.

To wit, we know about bugs. Bugs are around. Bugs fly into things. Bugs fly into cars and get squished like bugs. Bugs crawl on the ground and get squished like bugs.

And we’ve long used that analogy to explain to her why she shouldn’t wander into the street. “What would happen if you didn’t see that car coming?” “I’d get squished like a bug!” she says. Originally it was with a little bit of fear and apprehension, but she’s grown to the age where bug-squishing has a scatological glee associated with it (though we try to restrain her from going on orgies of bug-squishing).

At any rate, we were driving back from summer school yesterday, and some yo-yo had decided to cross busy Dry Creek in mid-block, and was precariously positioned on the lone double-yellow in the middle, narrowly missed by cars swooshing past in one direction (ours), and in similar danger from anyone trying to turn left at the next intersection.

I commented my outraged opinion that it was really stupid to do something like that, which Katherine agreed with. While I suppose there are dangers in raising someone to be judgmental about stuff, I also think there are benefits to her believing that doing dangerous things is “stupid.” Ask her about motorcyclists without helmets some time …

Anyway, after I followed up my comment with concern over the gent, and hope that he didn’t actually get hurt — “I would be sad about that.” “Me, too.” — she considered for a few moments.

“Daddy. Maybe people who do something stupid and get squished like bugs turn into bugs.”

You got it all right there, ladies and gentlemen: from transmigration of souls to karmic balancing.

It’s little comments like that which make me shake my head — and smile. And make me glad we have some time together driving home from school, too.