So one evening we are all sitting in the living room. Dean and I are reading “Die Zeit”. Anika and Pascal are just moping around. One very distinct feature about our -actually all - kids is that they cannot be simply bored by themselves. No, the need to go around advertising their boredom, rub it right in your face. But we parents need to be strong and set a good example by just sitting and enjoying a soundless activity. Anika gets it first and announces that she is going to sit down and read in the bible now, because she feels like it. (Although we are not in any way a religious family, I do like the fact that Anika is exposed to religion. She also attends religion lessons at her school, although she does not really have to.) After a while, this peaceful atmosphere of quiet reading is broken by fighting noises: swishing of invisible swords and the thumping sounds of fists hitting something scaly. Pascal is pretending to fight off aliens, concentrated fierceness on his face, eyes narrowed, his lips pulled into a sneer. I could swear Pascal can really see these creatures. And boy, I wouldn’t mess with him if I were a monster, space monkey or anything that cannot run away fast enough. Then, Dean, Anika and I look up from our reading at the same time and smile one of these little knowing smiles at each other, in silent agreement that we are witnessing just another moment of two worlds colliding. So this is why you cannot love these two children the same. Yes, you can love them equally but you need to love them in a different way.
