You Cannot Fool Six
You are funny! He is six, with big brown eyes.
I have sixty years on him. His head is thrown back, he gives a loud laugh.
I am confused. “What did I say?”
“You said this is a spegasor.”
“It is a Stegosaurus,” I tell him.
His laugh is louder now, he sounds like he is trying to win a loud-laugh-off.
I am sure the meeting three doors up in the principal’s office is listening.
“Shh!” I say, but I do not mean it.
I say it only for the benefit of anyone walking by who might be looking in the glass wall of my office. I am glad my back is turned to this wall.
I actually am thrilled, as laughter is rare for this particular child.
We discuss how he lives with Grandma now. She feeds me, he tells me.
“That’s great!” I say. “And she doesn’t hit me.” “Terrific,” I say.
“We play and then we rest, we play, and then we rest.”
“You rest from play?”
A head-nod.
“How do you rest from play?”
“Mostly sleeping or reading books.”
“Sounds great.” He nods, and we continue building our animal village.
Then I decided I want to hear that terrific laugh again, so I try to be silly.
Twice.
He glares at me.
“What are you doing?” he asks me.
Even a 6-year-old knows when you are trying too hard.
I pick up the Stegosaurus.
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