When my son, now in his late thirties, was about five years old, he made a remark that has stayed with me ever since. He had gone through a stage, thankfully brief, when he would pee unexpectedly, leaving a small visible stain on his dark grey school trousers. At some point, I asked him, probably with some exasperation, couldn’t he tell when it was coming? “No, Mum,” he said, “it is kind of like an ambush.”
He hit the nail on the head. There is no control. It starts as early as any of us can remember – we ran too fast on a pavement, we climbed that tree and, all of a sudden, we found ourselves on the ground and in pain. From small scrapes to broken limbs, we learned early on that our bodies could be a nuisance and did not behave as we had planned.
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