New World in the Morning by Stephen Benatar

interrupted Matt, sadly. “I mean, about ‘superficial’ and the rest of it.”
    I raised an eyebrow at him. He’d clearly forgotten yesterday’s kiss on the back of my neck and what had given rise to it. Well, only to be expected. Thoroughly normal. Perhaps tomorrow he’d remember it. Or ten years from tomorrow. Or fifty.
    â€œBut even so,” I continued, “you’d hardly have wanted me to get all intense and heavy about it, would you?”
    â€œDaddy, I think you’ve been sounding fine.”
    â€œThank you, darling. I appreciate that.”
    Junie began to giggle.
    The giggling went on. She had to wipe her eyes. The children joined in—me, as well—puzzled though we all were.
    â€œMimsy and Pim!” she said. “Mimsy and Pim would have a fit. Only remember how they reacted when you decided to leave the bank!”
    â€œIs that why you’re laughing?”
    She nodded.
    â€œYour mother and father,” I observed gently, “have no say whatever in the way we live our lives.”
    In spite of her own implied criticism, there followed a slightly uncomfortable silence. I had often wished—in one respect, anyhow—that the loan they’d made us when we bought the house hadn’t been converted into a gift as soon as I could have begun to pay them back.
    â€œIt’s none of Mimsy’s business!” declared Matt, hotly, apparently deciding, after all, that perhaps I did have the looks and unconsciously relegating his grandfather to the subordinate position which indeed he held.
    â€œNow, stop it, that isn’t respectful,” said Junie. “And all this is getting out of hand! To be honest, Sam, I’d probably quite enjoy managing the shop but I thought you were perfectly happy with the way things were. It never occurred to me—”
    â€œI am,” I answered. “I am.” I’d finished my meal and now I went round behind her to kiss the top of her head. “I’m as happy as anybody ever could be. I have an excellent wife and two excellent children. What more could a man ask for? It’s just that occasionally one likes to dream. To dream of doing something a little more colourful. To dream of…” I hesitated.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know.” I became self-mockingly grandiloquent. “Of sailing into unmapped waters, of spreading one’s wings like a wandering albatross—or a sunbird—or a roc. Of realizing perhaps a larger bit of one’s potential.”
    â€œTrust our dad! Who else would ever spread his wings like a rock? Who else would even think of it?”
    â€œR-o-c,” I smiled. “As you very well appreciate, little monster.” Matt had been all but weaned on the adventures of Sinbad.
    â€œYet getting back to the subject in hand…?” prompted Junie.
    I gave a shrug. “Oh—as I said—I’m probably being adolescent. Stargazing. After all…out of every thousand expiring actors how many d’you suppose ever really get there?”
    â€œPossibly,” said Matt, “aspiring ones might stand a fractionally better chance.”
    â€œWhy? What did I say? Nonsense,” after he’d explained, “you’re imagining things! I’ll go to make the coffee.”
    Junie called after me. “But you could if you truly wanted. If you thought there’d be the slightest possibility. I wouldn’t try to stop you.”
    â€œYes, go on, Dad, why don’t you?” shouted Matt. “You old expiring actor, you! And anyway what’s so wrong, I’d like to know, about being adolescent?”
    â€œBet you could, Daddy,” added Ella. “You’re by far the hunkiest dad in Deal.”
    I put my head back through the doorway.
    â€œYou’re very sweet, all of you! We’ll have to see. No promises, mind. I certainly don’t mean to rush into anything. I plan to be