Oscar turned seven. That is a big step in a man’s life. You learn things when you’re seven. You decrypt letters like there is no tomorrow. You count. You add stuff to other stuff. And then, there is girls. Like Sarah. Seven rocks. Seven means you’re growing up… Fast.
So Oscar had a Grow Up Party at school. Like a Convention for smart people growing up. They could invite old people, like me. So he invited me. To the Party. Now… being invited to a Grow Up Party is a big deal. Especially when you’re invited by Oscar. It means a lot.
So he picked my most shiny car for the wonderful ride, just the two of us, to his Grow Up Party at school. And while humming through the Flemish countryside, quietly enjoying the sun in a roofless sixty year old two-seater, he slid his little hand in mine. And squeezed a bit. For Comfort. I do not know if he wanted comfort, or wanted to comfort me. Anyway, my nervousness ebbed away.
As I saw him beaming, on his way to his Sarah and his Grow Up Party, I understood: he will save our world. No matter what. That’s what seven year olds do…
