It is two thirty. I am ten years old. I really don’t understand what’s happening in science at the minute. We are learning about insects, digging holes in the grass, putting a little cup, with a splash of something alcoholic at the bottom. The next morning, we are told, the cup will have some bugs in it. We’ve been told not to worry if some of those bugs are dead. I don’t think anyone of us would worry if all of the bugs were dead and I know some of the boys in my class would happily kill any that survived. I poured out the alcohol onto the grass, I hope that this means I don’t have to kill any of them. Why should we be able to kill bugs just because we want to look at them. It doesn’t work that way with people, and I don’t think it ever did. With people, we have to wait until they die before we start to look at how they work on the inside.
When Mum was ill they said that she was ill, in the same way that I can get a cold, but that she was ill on the inside. I wonder if when someone cuts open my Mum head, after she’s finished living, I wonder if they could find the broken part, learn how it works and then maybe fix me. I doubt it works that well, but, I still wish it did.
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