When I became an adult (wasn’t that just last year?), I put
away childish things so I could become the person I thought I wanted to be. It
never occurred to me there’d be things I couldn’t put away. But there were. Or
are. Now, after years of being unable to put things away, children are teaching
me how.
Consider, for example, the creatures lurking beneath my bed.
At night, I never cross the bedroom floor without slippers; or, if I do, I leap
and roll onto the mattress so my toes never have to pass out of sight beneath
the bedframe. Finally, after plumbing my foolishness, I discovered its deep
origins: the tale of The Three Billy-Goats Gruff. You know, that troll lurking
beneath the bridge.
So you might imagine my concern when I heard the story being
read in class one day. And my consternation when I spotted five-year-old Seth
drawing a troll. Surely here was one more little boy who, like me, would grow
up with unquellable bedtime apprehensions; another young man confronting a
lifetime of nighttime leaping.
But no!
When Seth and I talked about his drawing, he confessed he
used to be afraid, just like me. But since he heard the story and made his
drawing at Head Start, he can stand now – fearlessly – beside his bed.
Slipperless!
After he told me this, Seth sat quietly for a moment,
fiddling with his pencil. Then, solemnly, he handed it to me.
“Here,” he said. “Maybe you should draw one.”