This morning, as we were walking down to the deli, Lu looked into the front yard of a perfectly restored 1850s terrace house in the highly sought after 'cafe precinct' of our town and said in horror and confusion, "Mummy, those people have no vegetable garden!".
It was the perfect opportunity to teach Lu about respect for difference, about the many alternative ways of living in our world but I prefer to hammer my points home hard. So I told her, in tragic tones, "Some poor people don't have gardens my love. Some people don't grow their own veggies. It is very sad".
"There are no chooks?"
"None at all".
"How can this be?"
Our kids are so very much their own selves, and they carry so much of us with them into their lives. It is best to be very careful what we give them.
(above: Lu, Al andNell in the harsh urban environment of the 'Paris end of Charles Street' - no really, people actually say that down here!)
I came home from my walk today with a posy of freesias as big as my baby's head, with a scent as sweet and as rare as a kiss from Lu. In my other hand was a great verdant bunch of thistles for the chooks. All collected from the landslip areas and abandoned houses around me.
Those poor, poor people in their beautiful homes and elegant courtyards - they don't get their flowers for free.