Several months ago while I was elbow deep in dishwater, Kit experienced a fit of inspiration. You might prefer not to compare having an idea to suffering a seizure. Just remember, I didn’t say it was a good idea. He asked why we don’t just buy take aways every night, and throw the dishes away. Then I would have more time to play with him.
So we had a talk about throwing away rubbish. “Where do you think ‘away’ is, Kit?” I asked.
“At the rubbish dump, like you told me,” he answered.
“And what about when we run out of room at the rubbish dump?” I probed.
“Wait! I know this one…it’s a story from The Bible,” he mused.
“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” I muttered.
“When there was no room at the dump, the baby Jesus had to get born in a barn!” he squeaked triumphantly.
“Anyway, he didn’t want to get born in a dump like a piece of rubbish…but now that I think about it, there might have been ‘no room at the hotel.’ That would be right. Hotels are always booked out at Christmas time.” I left the logic of that alone.
“I just meant that we are running out of room for new rubbish dumps,” I explained, “Away from us is always going to be near someone else. The population keeps getting bigger, we make more and more rubbish, and it is getting everywhere. We need to reduce, reuse and recycle more.”
Kit made his excuses and went to play. I though he hadn’t been paying attention. Until a few months later when I took him to an op shop for the first time.
Kit thought it was brilliant how they were selling used things so cheaply. “It’s much better than wasting stuff,” he squeaked. “It is good for the envirolment. Otherwise people put things in their rubbish bins, and then the people in orange shirts come and put it all in a smelly truck. And then they drive, and dump it at the dump. If they keep doing that, the dumps will get bigger and bigger, until they all join up, and the whole world is a dump, like Mandurah!”
“Kit!” I said, “You’ve never even been to Mandurah.”
“I know but I hear things,” he said mysteriously.
“I’ve been thinking about Christmas,” he added, “We made a whole lot of rubbish last year. So I thought maybe we could reuse our rubbish by making Christmas decorations out of it. You know, for the tree.”
Envisaging angels made out of toilet rolls and baubles fashioned from foil and ribbon, I agreed. I left him to it, saying what a great idea it was. I now regret that last bit.
