Try and Keep Up
I don’t need to know what Ian is thinking. As he grows older, I’m sure I’ll rather not know. But I wouldn’t mind a clue, now and then.
This morning he walked into our bedroom, babbling like a brook. He was trying to explain something about him not yelling, and how I would be mad if he didn’t. I think he mentioned robots. Somehow he segued into government planes.
And it’s not as though he walked into our room and then started talking. He entered as if we were in the middle of a heated conversation. Finally he paused, and asked me…something. I can’t even recall what he said. He was speaking English, but I didn’t understand a word.
All I could do was blink.
You know those Family Circus cartoons, with the looping dashed line that follows Jeffy’s path through the house? That could just as easily be Ian’s head.
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