My five-year-old son has this peculiar new habit. He sees something through the window, outside the car, or on TV, and he’ll swipe his hand toward it, then make a little fist. Then he’ll bring that fist to me, open it up and offer whatever he “caught” to me as a gift. He gives me all sorts of interesting things, like kitties, birds, wolves, fairies, dragons, and cartoon characters. But there’s something they all share that draws him to them. Something that makes him “grab” them at one moment versus any other moment. For the longest time, I didn’t really understand what he was doing.
Over the past several weeks, I’ve seen this as just another cute little boy habit of his. You know how kids get. Who knows why they do the silly little things they do? But then, do you really know them, if you can’t delve into the fascinating worldview they possess? When I finally latched onto the reasoning behind my son’s collection of things he can’t really collect, I was moved and proud all at once. You know how moms get.
My son is collecting inspirations. Just like his writer mom. He collects jumping kitties or zooming spaceships. I collect motives and plot twists. But deep down at the heart of who we are, we’re doing the same thing. And I’m never going to let him stop.
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