I plopped the teabag into the cup and chased it with boiling water. It was early morning.
Through the steam I watched Chicky enter the room, stamping his feet up and down on the other side of the kitchen bench.
“Good morning, handsome.” I blew on to the tea. “What are you stomping about for?”
“I’m the Devil, coming upstairs from hell.” His face was all twisted.
“Oh, Christ.” I sipped the tea, smiling at the contorted child in front of me.
“Grrr, get me my breakfast, Daddy,” he growled.
“Right, so what would the Devil like for breakfast this morning?”
“Vegemite soliders, please,” he asked in his normal voice, leaping up to the stool, smiling.
“Thank God, I thought you were going to ask for a darkened soul, my love.” I pressed down the bread into the toaster.
Later we were driving and miniature Satan reappeared in the back.
“You’re a bit fascinated with the Dark Lord, my love. What’s up? Did you talk about it at school?”
“Yes — is he real, Dad?” Chick asked and Beau leaned in.
“Right, well, yes he is, but more so as a characteristic of temptation. You know, like do I eat ice cream for breakfast instead of Weetbix?”
I peered into the mirror to gauge the audience.
“I mean, you can have ice cream for breakfast, but with all choices, there are consequences.”
My speech was lost on them as Mini Satan was busy killing his brother in the back seat.
“Anyway, he’s always cranky because his breath smells like fart and he has half a willy.”
And my audience was back, just like that.
Temptation is such a powerful feeling at any life stage, just as willy and fart talk will always get a laugh, no matter the age.
