INVISIBLE SWEDISH CHICKENS

"I'm going to make an invisible chicken," I said, pretending to roll some plasticine between my fingers.

"What colour?" asked Sam.

"Oh yellow, I think!" I said, "Like all chickens - yellow and blue."

I was expecting him to tell me firmly that chickens just aren't yellow and blue. Instead, and to my delight, this happened:

"A chicken from Sweden!" he beamed with a toothy smile. His eyes lit up.

I wondered whether he knew because of Stockholmhaven. So I pushed him a bit further.

"How do you know about Swedish chickens?" I said.

"I know lots!" he replied.

"Well, maybe I'll make an invisible... Italian chicken instead!" I raised an eyebrow.

"You need green and white."

"Or a Japanese chicken!"

"Um... white and red."

He's a lot like me, I think, this boy.

Mind you, they all sort of are. My Mum told me about their recent trip to the stream where the Niblings all played Pooh Sticks.

Ben got bored and decided to discover how deep the water was by finding the longest, straightest stick he could, and then poking it in from the bank, until it touched the riverbed.

"I thought he was going to topple in!" explained my Mum, "Leaning over the water there, doing his science experiment. Just like you!"

My Dad chipped in: "It turned out to be three feet deep! And the water was quite fast."

"Good job he didn't fall in then," I replied.

"Yes, he'd have been like a Pooh-stick all by himself, floating under the bridge," said my Mum. My Dad found that funny.

I do hope this thirst for knowledge continues. It's so much more appealing than the fighting and whinging and the not-listening-when-it's-time-to-put-your-shoes-on.

In fact, knowledge broadens the wonder of the world, hopefully to the degree where we all realise that we're not the centre of the universe we thought we were, that life isn't all that fair, and that kindness, honesty, hope and freedom are the things to fight for.

And who knows, maybe one day they'll make invisible Swedish chickens for their nephews too.