"No, Jackson!" I heard Diego say, with an urgency that made me brace myself for whatever conflict would come next. "That's Daddy's journal."
They were in our home office, at one of our desks, where they had been doing well for the previous ten minutes or son. I could hear them in there, engaging in imaginative play, which I love, because it requires them to actively use their minds, rather than sitting passively in front of the TV set.
This entreaty by Diego was louder than the banter had been up to that point, and I came in and saw Jackson with a pen, poised to personalize my personal journal, where I write things like this piece in longhand. Truth be told, I don't really mind finding Jackson's work in my journals -- within reason. He tends to draw odd little sketches, which I simply write around, and they end up being an interesting adornment to my work, when all is said and done.
"Here Jackson," I said, before he could start loudly pleading his case, and I reached up high on my shelf and handed him his own blank book. (I have a few extras lying around, because I'm an optimist and I count on the next day coming.) He immediately began work on a fascinating seascape, then asked me to draw him a shark, so that he could put a monkey in its toothy mouth.
"Look Dee-AY-go!" he said, all smiles, showing off his new journal to his big brother and before he could whine about not having one, I asked Diego if he would like a blank book too.
"Sure!"
He then wrote the first page of his new journal, which he dated, and titled "About My Life." His first sentence, which I put right up there with "Call me Ishmael" and "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times" is "My name is Diego Reyes Fuchs and I got a dog in April."
And with that, a proud Fuchs tradition continues . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment