The lad and I built a pretty massive table this weekend. We’re pretty pleased with it. After we finished, we ate supper and were getting cleaned up. We were out of kids toothpaste so I made him use grownup toothpaste. He wasn’t happy about it but he cheered up when I said he could brush his teeth in the shower.
In the shower I asked him if he’d like to use grownup shampoo and he quickly replied, “No! I’m just a kid.”
“Ok,” I laughed. “How long do you want to be a kid?”
“At least…” he thought about it, the tips of all ten fingers up to his chin as he likes to do when he’s making an important decision. “At least until I’m all grown up.”
I think he’s got a little bit more of a certain kind of wisdom than my teachers did when I was growing up. But then, they had a gun to their heads and were forced to teach according to the directives made by the educationists. Many of them, many of us, did an imperfect job made as good as it could be by the love with which they did it.
Thanks, dear reader, should you ever find me, for being my gadfly.