“What’s he doing, Dad?”
“He’s swimming,” I said.
“But…”
“Yeah, I know. Just don’t tell him, okay? He might get stuck.”
“But he’s not stuck now!”
“I know. Weird, eh? Thing is, he mightn’t be aware that what he’s doing is impossible. And, if you point it out, he mightn’t be able to do it no more.”
“Why would knowing make him stop?”
“The world is a funny place. Half the time, what we’re doing is impossible, except it’s not until someone points out that it is. Then, we become stuck.” I wasn’t sure if I was explaining it right, but I hoped the kid understood.
“So, just let him keep swimming in the road?”
“Yep. Mind your own business, and pass on by. Not our place to tell him what he can and can’t do. He’s doing just fine without our judgement.”
I smiled at the kid. He thought about it for a while, then nodded.
“Okay.”
“Great, son. Just keep going,” I said.
And we both flapped our arms harder, flying above the road, past the man swimming through the bitumen, and towards the sunset and home.
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