Waving not drowning

The baby turned nine months old and learned to wave today. She was waggling her hand in a puzzling and new way at dinner, and I couldn’t work out what she meant by it. All done? You want to get down? Your hand hurts? But then her father came home and the hand started up again and I realised she was waving for all she was worth.

I told Monkey that Grandad was going to be 80 next week. He said “And then he’ll die?” Since I’ve told him that people get old and then they die, this wasn’t too much of a surprise.
“I hope not for a while yet,” I said, and went on to explain how we’d all die in due course, even me, in many years, and Monkey himself many years after that.
“But I’ll die with you,” he insisted. I laughed it off and we changed the subject.

Several hours later, out of the blue, he said again, “I’ll just die with you, Mummy.” I think he thinks it’s like going to IKEA or something. Maybe it is.