I tell my kids we’re moving to Melbourne. They react accordingly, as you would expect children to do. Between the two of them, they pinwheel through every emotion you could possibly associate with this kind of change.
The general consensus is not what I expected. The Chop is thoroughly excited, almost anxious in his anticipation. He’s entranced at the idea of living so close to the city. He is obsessed with the concept that trams drive right there on the street with the cars!!!
He works out his worries, one at a time. Will the cat come with us? Will we take everything in our house? Will he go to swimming lessons in Melbourne? (Yes; kind of; and probably, yes). To the Chop this is the ultimate adventure and he can’t wait to start a new school and meet new people.
I’d predicted all of this, of course… It’s just that I thought it would be the other way around. That the Chop would be reluctant to leave, and the bubbly Bump ready for a new adventure in a whole new place.
Turns out, I don’t know my children as well as I thought.
I wonder how often that happens. I’m guessing it will happen more and more as my kids grow up. Their mother, walking around, sure that she understands what’s going on in their complex little minds, when she actually has no idea what they’re thinking.