Scene: our living room, 7 am. The children have been playing house and have constructed various rooms and vehicles out of the available materials. He is the daddy, she is the mommy, there are assorted children, and they've been pretending various plausible scenarios. Out of the blue, seemingly:
Sebastian: What time does the war start?
Liesl: 5:30.
Sebastian: Oh no, it's 5 already! Drive me to the war, hurry up! Get the babies in the car! Let's go!
(Me, from the kitchen: the babies can't go to the war! Seb: Oh, they're just dropping me off, like we drop daddy off at work.)
Three minutes later:
Seb: We won! We won by so much! We get to keep our own country and not join the other one!
Yay! Can you come and pick me up for dinner?
Liesl: Yay! yay!
Apparently, in my children's understanding, war is kind of like a soccer game - strictly limited in time, and an appropriate venue for children. Long may it be so.
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