#72

Sometimes I think about the secrets I kept from my parents (sorry, Mom) and I wonder when that is gonna start happening with my kids. What was the first thing that I kept to myself; The first daydream that was too precious to be dragged out into the light, the first insight that was too fragile and tenuous to place under the gaze of my wise guardians? Jack is a pensive fellow at five, and often found staring off into space. If my wife and I see him this way, we’ll giggle silently and mumble little clockwork sounds under our breath to each other, as if we can hear his gears turning.

Yeah, I know we should get out more, but babysitters are expensive, and truth be told, we were a little lame even before the kids…

When I ask him what he is thinking about, he almost always tells me, and it’s mostly typical five-year-old stuff. To whit, “I was thinking about the time when I wanted Isaac to climb on the bed with me and write messages on little pieces of paper and he told me no and I said I really really really really really wanted him to come up and he didn’t want to so I told him I was really mad at him and wanted him to get out of the bedroom never ever come back and he said …‘POOP’!”

But sometimes when I ask he says,

“Nothing.”

And I know, I know, it’s something.

And I’d give anything to know what it was. What comes out of his mouth half the time is fart jokes and nonsense, but what’s going on in his mind is fascinating. His mind is his own, however, and God willing it always will be. I would never trespass there, but it is such an honor sometimes to be invited in.

Tonight I saw Jack with that far-away look, and asked him what was on in his mind. Jack kept his eyes fixed on the daydream he was chasing and said,

“It’s classified.”