Usually when I’m back at my mum’s place, there’s not much for Gavin to do except to run around or cycle. This morning, we were there again and he was happy to find the company of an 11-year old boy, Brendon, who was staying over at my mum’s neighbours. They were communicating through the fence. I was pleasantly surprised that Brendon bothered to play with Gavin because boys at his age are always indifferent to toddlers. He was actually quite interested in what Gavin was babbling and even show my son his skateboard, gameboys and other stuff. So the two hit it off very well and Gavin was poking and tickling Brendon through the holes in the fence. I also struck a conversation with Brendon as he was curious to find out what Gavin was saying, and the kind of toys he owns.

Anyway, halfway through our conversation, I had established that his parents are divorced because he told me that his mum and dad stayed at different places. I didn’t probe but he offered to tell me more. “My mum and dad don’t live together. You know why?” Before I could say anything, he continued, “di-vorced…they’re di-vorce.” And he looked at me, seemingly wondering if I knew the meaning of that word. I didn’t know how to respond to that there and then so there was an awkward moment of silence before Gavin salvaged the situation by exclaiming yet another of his “daddy’s car!”.

Afterwards we bid goodbye to one another and Gavin was clearly upset that he had to part ways with his new found friend. For me, I kept wondering about Brendon. The fact that he mentioned the word divorce to a stranger seems to indicate that it matters to him. What was he thinking? Was he looking for an explanation to that word? Or was he looking for a reaction to what he had said? Was that a tinge of resignation in his tone? Then again, perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Maybe he just said it to make himself feel different or special. Maybe the kids are more resilient than we really think they are. Just maybe.