My son and I were lazily basking in the sun one Sunday forenoon. I was not feeling quite well after an episode of IBS the previous evening, and was reclining on a chair with my legs resting on another chair. The nine-year-old came up to me and placed himself comfortably on my stretched legs and tummy. I said, “Dua, if you press me like that I shall die and go to heaven!” Dua said “Heaven is a nice place. I have been there”. “You? How on earth could you do that!”, I snapped back. “Yeah, before we were born, we babies were living with God. I remember that quite well. We lived in a big bright hall, next to God’s room, where we spent most of our time playing. “God has kept a room for Himself? Well, have you seen Him?”, I asked, quite interested at his story. “Yeah, He…