There was a quote I had read somewhere some time ago that went something like… “The first child is poetry, the last child is prose” . I don’t think this entirely true. Poetry and prose are both so intertwined in life that it’s impossible to draw the line between them. But here’s an anecdote that made me wonder… The other day (5 y.o.) Grace came home excitedly bursting to share some new mind-blowing information she learnt at science… “Do you know how rain is made, mummy?” (How, baby?) “Okay, let me tell you… first the sun shines on all the rivers and lakes until tiny drops of water floats up to the sky… and then the drops of water stick together to make clouds… then when more and more water floats up, and then the clouds get fatter and fatter and FATTER until it BURSTS and falls down to the ground, and that is RAIN! Isn’t that amazing?” (So amazing!) Compare that to this whimsical fancy from (8 y.o.) Nathan… “Mummy, do you know what I think? I think when it rai...