You ever think about how attractive Harry Potter must be? A humble, kind Desi boy with stark green eyes and broad shoulders. The scar on his forehead, after the war, becomes a reminder of what he accomplished, of the people he saved. It’s a peculiar mark, but it fits him so well. His laughter is contagious, and so is his love. Harry Potter is so stunning. Such a beautiful boy.
“Daddy, where did I come from?” our son asks me following dinner at my mum’s house. I’ve been tasked with tucking him into Gemma’s old bed upstairs, and my beautiful wife stands at the door to watch.
My eyebrows raise, and I glance at my love only to see her covering her mouth in an attempt to not burst into loud laughs. Her snickers escape though, and her shoulders shake with her efforts.
“Oh, uh….” I stutter a bit. He’s only five! How am I supposed to answer this question? If he were 17 or 21, I might know how to answer. I’m pretty sure we have a book at home that was a baby shower gift that explains how you’re supposed to answer this question. But now? Here? Crap.