So, I was looking back at my first blog — Transcendental Floss, published 2004-2009 (sorry no link, it’s not really presentable in it’s archived form, and NO, it’s most definitely NOT this) — and I came across a post of mine that just melted me.
It was late June 2004, July 4th was around the corner, and that means we’d soon be taking off for the annual Independence Day gathering at my in-laws’ property on Vashon Island, where shooting off fireworks is a two-day frenzy.
A two-day frenzy that my son LOVES!!!
Anyway, shortly before we set off for Vashon, my son, then 6.5-years old, came to me upset, worried that something he’d heard was going to spoil the 4th of July festivities:
son: Dad, my friend said that it’s illegal to light fireworks on Vashon Island on a day that’s not the 4th of July.
me: Well, your friend’s just a little off there. It is illegal here in Bellingham, but not everywhere. I think your friend’s just acting like he knows everything.
me: Don’t you think it would be boring to know everything? There would be no mystery to life.
son: Yeah, but it could be useful.
(I pause, holding back a chuckle, followed by immense pride and adoration.)
me: True. Still, I think it would get boring.
son: Yeah, like for detectives. They wouldn’t have any mysteries to solve.