Taking It Off
Waiting for him, she studied paintings in preparation for her own. Here’s St Bartholomew, skinned alive, holding his flayed remains and Michelangelo’s own face within that sheet of horror. Why?
The bell rang and the very small boy walked in and right over to the furry white thing draped over the chair. “Grandma, I like this. It’s so soft. What is it?”
“It’s a sheepskin from Australia.”
“Is the white fur his skin? Why do they call it sheepskin? Is it that the skin is from a sheep? How did they get it here?”
She furrowed her brow a little. “Yes, that’s the skin. Are you ready for lunch? How would you like a peanut butter sandwich? We can go to the playground later.”
“OK … but how did the skin get here, Grandma? Did you take it off the sheep?”
“And you can have some jelly with it too. Would you like that?”
“But Grandma, how did they get the skin off the sheep? Did they just pull him out of it? Did he mind?”
She walked away into the kitchen. He petted the skin for a while then went looking for her.
They each had their questions.