Walking through the community centre (by the pond, with the swimming pool at ground floor) on our way to my in laws' place for dinner, Jethro asked me if he could throw the stuff in his hand into the water or not.
I was righteously shocked: "No, of course not! Throw it into the rubbish bin!"
He obediently went to throw the little something that he had held in his hand in a knotted fist into the bin.
Just at the moment, something clicked in place in my head. Jethro likes to pick up stones, sticks, dead leaves along the way. He seemed to lingering among the pebbled grass patches just now... Could it be...?
"Jethro, what's that you had in your hands?"
"Rocks," came the reply.
"Oh, and which water did you want to throw them into?"
"There," he pointed to the dirty pond.
I could only end this by laughing at myself.
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
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