I went along to Four's Christmas Concert today.
Now, he goes to this pre-school where they like to fill the little ones' heads with Christ and the bible and all manner of other religious guff (sorry if I've offended my American readers - that's you Merve. I'm told 77% of you believe God created the universe, but you have no idea where Iraq is...). It's one of the prices you have to pay for living in a country where secular education - at least at pre-school level - is pretty much impossible to find. Anyhow, they look after him well and seem to give him decent food and let him play on the slide, which is fine and dandy.
The thing is, he is already thinking that when people die they come back reincarnated. Well, you would think that, wouldn't you. I mean if it's good enough for a bloke with a beard and a donkey - why not? I think what worries me is it's only a few years before Four will be wanting the keys to the Bentley. Now, we all know young men and speed don't go well together. I just hope he's not still delusional by the time he's old enough to drive, otherwise he'll be wrapping the motor around a tree safe in the knowledge that he'll be rising from the dead. In medical circles I think they call it being bonkers.
But that's a way off yet.
Now, half way through the concert Santa made an appearance. I must admit I was puzzled - I came home afterwards and scoured the good book but could find only mention of Sodom and Gommorah, burning bushes and a stable, nothing at all about a portly man with a white beard and sack full of Chinese-made toys.
So, after the concert when the kids were stuffing themselves with sausage rolls and frankfurters I was talking to the pastor and the headmisstress and Four came up and said, "That was you."
"Sorry?" said the pastor.
"You were wearing a beard."
They both looked at him like he'd said fuck.
"No," said the pastor slowly, I think, wondering if exorcism was called for, "that was Santa."
"No, that was you. I saw the hooks on your beard and it was your voice and your shoes."
Yes, that's my boy.