Dorje and I were watering the garden the other day, and looking at the rainbows in the trees. He wanted to know how a rainbow formed.

Looking for a prism to show him, I came across this video. Dorje seemed genuinely amazed, calling it “beautiful” and he’s watched it a few times since.

A MIGHTY GIANT ROAMED THE LAND, LEADING A ROARING RED DRAGON. NOT ONE IN MIGHT OR POWER, COULD BE FOUND TO TAME THE TERRIBLE TWO. ONE LITTLE BOY WITH TRUTH IN HIS HEART AND LOVE IN HIS CARE COULD BANISH THE TERRIBLE TWO. HE SLAYED THE GIANT WITH TRUTH AND TAMED THE DRAGON WITH LOVE.

‎”According to me, the function of the parents is not how to help the children grow. They will grow without you. Your function is to support, to nourish, to help what is already growing. Don´t give directions and don´t give ideals. Don´t tell them what is right and what is wrong — let them find it by their own experience.” Osho

At school this morning, I gave Dorje a hug and tonnes of kisses and said “I love you my special love heart”.

He looks at me and says “Please mum you can no longer do that at school!” FARK, it ripped my heart out but, it was inevitable

Dorje’s having fun in his dreams. His nocturnal exploits inspired me to attend a workshop on lucid dreaming, and while I haven’t been doing much lucid dreaming myself, Dorje seems to have been making up for my lack. Most still involve the fun task of fighting monsters, not at all scary anymore now that he can defeat them easily.

I’ve been encouraging him to make friends with the monsters, which he seems to have done, but he finds it more entertaining that not only can he defeat them easily, he can control the monsters.

I have visions of Dorje leading an array of fearsome beasts in a quickstep – not close to as much fun as what’s actually going on I’m sure.

I asked him how he became aware he was dreaming. The usual technique involves looking at one’s hands, and it will change in some way, making us realise we are dreaming, but Dorje did this once and his hand turned “evil”.

His technique is a first to me but quite ingenious – he looks at his fingerprints!

Seeing that I’m not having much chance to lucid dream myself, I’m subtly planting suggestions for him to try out – a classic case of a parent living their life through their child I suppose…

It’s the end of Dorje’s first year of school proper, and the Grade 1 parents in Dorje’s class got together to give his teacher, Ruby, a present. If a wormy apple is supposed to be a sign to the teacher, I’m not sure what to make of this one. For her present she was asked to leap off a mountain. Safely tied to a paraglider of course, with an instructor to boot.

I’ve tried to climb Lion’s Head with Dorje once before, but about 100 metres in started complaining about his sore legs. There was no backing out this time though if he wanted to see teacher take her leap of faith.

The class gathered for a final photo – of the year, that is.

The instructions are simple. Run, don’t stop, don’t sit, just run. A surprising number of people apparently get it wrong, sending instructor and passenger tumbling into the bushes. Ruby got it right.

The take-off point is about a quarter way up Lion’s Head, and after taking off the paragliders usually soar on the updraft towards the summit. Dorje and Sankara kept a close eye to make sure she didn’t crash on the top. Dorje kept asking me if we could climb higher, so he was probably half hoping she would land there rather than Camps Bay beach below.

No such luck, and we raced Ruby to the beach. Most of us got there before her, but, being a Saturday afternoon, it was quicker to get to Camps Bay then to find parking, so by the time we got to the beach, Ruby was sitting safely, waiting for us.

I look forward to next year’s present:

Dorje recently made a card for a friend. The birthday girl is just finishing her arts degree, and, to my knowledge, without any prompting about struggling artists, Dorje made her a golden moneymaking machine.

News is that it’s already working. I quite like the eco-friendly design. Note the dirty smoke pouring out the bottom being sucked in again, and being converted to clean air.

It also doesn’t need a power socket as it’s driven by people power. I can vouch that it’s a good workout too, since my contribution during the testing process involved labour, not design and engineering.

For the golden corn and the apples on the trees
For the golden butter and the honey from the bee
For fruits and nuts and berries that grow beside the way
For birds and bees and flowers, we give our thanks today

Blessings on the meal, have a lovely lunch crunch!

I was waiting for Dorje’s mom to pick him up this evening when she called, saying her car had been stolen. Luckily she’d just come from yoga, and was relatively calm. The yoga teacher, however, apparently wasn’t. The car guard has learned some new words I’m sure.

I told Dorje his mom’s car had been stolen. He put on a fake sad face – the kind when you’re supposed to feel sad. It was about the same on the trauma scale as running out of tahini. But then the tears turned real when he realised, horror of horrors, no, not that mom wasn’t insured, but that he’d have to walk to school.

I briefly considered the “in my day I had to walk 10 miles in the snow” talk, except that 150 metres, and the lack of snow (ever) isn’t very compelling.

I just hope she is insured and they pay out quickly in case I’m expected (and this really is a horror of horrors) to lift in the early morning.

Friends tease me that when Dorje starts to rebel, nothing could upset me more than if he were to become a stockbroker.

Well he’s not far away. He was given a game of Junior Monopoly for Christmas – a stripped down, quicker and simpler version of the board game I’m sure almost everyone reading this has played.

He loved it. He enjoyed counting his money, making sure he was given the right change, and, most of all, beating me. Since he can’t ready very well, the fact that he’s landing on “Ferris Wheel” or “Nitro Speed Track” makes little difference – but he spots the dollar amount straight away.

He soon “progressed” to ordinary Monopoly. Ordinary in the sense that it’s the one I played as a child. The cheapest property is in Durban, Musgrave Road, and the most expensive, Eloff Street in Johannesburg, costs R400. The first game petered out – Monopoly can be quite slow-moving at the best of times.

But he was soon back, and this time went for the modern edition, released in 2002. The main attraction was that it featured R50 000 notes, rather than the R500 notes that were the height of desirability in the old version. The most expensive property is a much more believable Clifton, but still a bargain at R40 000.

Someone once said Monopoly was an anti-capitalist game, as it shows the inevitable conclusion to the system. One person ends up with everything and there’s nothing left to play for. If that’s the intention, it’s backfired horribly. I was soon on my knees against Dorje, dominating with hotels on both Clifton and Franschoek, and he had a worryingly lascivious gleam in his eye and chuckle in his voice as the threw his winnings in the air, showering in his riches.

He enjoys counting and playing shopkeeper immensely, and in real life refuses to spend his savings on anything. If he wants something that I’m not going to buy him, he’ll ask and ask, and when I eventually suggest he uses his own money, he soon shuts up.

In fact, writing this now, I’m starting to become suspicious about how he always “forgets” his money for snack sale at school.

I asked him today what he thought was worth spending his money spend on. Water, electricity and food (in that order) were his first suggestions. “What if you still have money left over after that?” I prompted. “Space rockets!” was next in line, to my relief. Then, more worryingly, he said he wanted to open a bank.

But he’d give all his money to those who had none.

So, we wait to see what sort of rebellious stockbroker he’ll turn out to be.