When I don't cycle to work, I get the tube. When I do, there's one particular house that catches my eye. I walk past it at about 6:30. When I do there's a little four year old in the window, sat on the sofa watching TV. I don't know the lad. Sometimes his dad is next to him, on his phone. 

Four is a great age. They are full of imagination, inhibition is only just starting to creep in. Life is exciting. When you walk in the door they still shout 'dad!' and run to meet you with open arms. 

My youngest is eight. I get a happy shout when I come in from work, but unless he's got something he's excited to tell me, he stays where he is and waits for me to come to him. Yes he's more self sufficient than a four year old, but with that gain comes the loss of some of the childlike magic. 

I don't know the situation in that house. I like to think 6:30pm is that boys only TV time and he's glued to it because it's exciting. Maybe his dad is a single parent so needs to use the electronic babysitter more than he'd like. Maybe his little sister is sick and TV helps him escape the atmosphere of the house. 

Maybe not. 

Maybe it's just what that family does. Maybe the TV is always on and they watch it more than they play together. That thought makes me sad, because they're missing out on the joy a four year old role brings to a family. The uninhibited love and imagination, the silly ideas and spontaneous laughs. Soon that little lad will be five. Unless they have another child, that family won't have a four year old in their lives ever again. I hope the TV programmes were worth it.