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“..….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….……..….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….…”
“I’m sorry but—”
“..….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….……..….….….….….….….….….….….….….….……”
“I don’t understand.”
“..….….….….….….….….….….….…. .”
Then he laughs, like she’s proposed something ridiculous. “I guess we could try?”
“..….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….…”
“How do we—okay. Right.”
“..….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….……..….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….….…”
“Oh, it’s cold!”
There’s no more speaking after that—but as I strain to hear what’s happening, I detect a kind of whisper—the sound of a pencil scratching on paper.
Drawing?
Is he drawing again?
I go downstairs, sit at the kitchen table, and wait.
Normally Quiet Time isn’t much more than an hour, but Teddy stays in his room twice as long. And when he finally comes down to the kitchen, he’s empty-handed.
I smile at him. “There he is!”
He climbs up onto a kitchen chair. “Hello.”
“No drawing today?”
“Can I have cheese and crackers?”
“Sure.”
I go over to the refrigerator and fix him a plate. “So what were you doing upstairs?”
“Can I have some milk?”
I pour him a small cup of milk, then carry everything over to the kitchen table. As he reaches for a cracker, I notice his palms and fingers are covered with black smudges. “Maybe you should wash your hands,” I suggest. “It looks like you’ve got pencil on them.”
He hurries over to the sink and washes his hands without comment. Then he returns to the table and starts eating the crackers. “Do you want to play LEGOs?”
* * *
And for the next few days, things are pretty normal. Teddy and I fill the hours with LEGOs and puppet shows, Play-Doh and Shrinky Dinks, coloring books and Tinkertoys and endless trips to the grocery store. He is a brave, adventurous eater and he loves to sample strange and exotic foods. Some days we’ll walk to Wegmans and buy jicama or a kumquat, just to see what they taste like.
He’s one of the most curious children I’ve ever met, and he loves to challenge me with imponderable questions: Why are there clouds? Who invented clothes? How do snails work? I am constantly reaching for my phone and checking Wikipedia. One afternoon in the swimming pool, Teddy points at my chest and asks why I have bumps poking through my swimsuit. I don’t make a big deal out of it. I just say they’re part of my body and the cold water makes them hard.
“You have them, too,” I tell him.
He laughs. “No, I don’t!”
“Sure you do! Everybody does.”