Last night, John was worried. He'd been sick all weekend, and had had his first real bout of fever dreams. His mind wasn't quite itself. As we were getting ready for bed, he approached the subject.
"I'm worried that I'm losing my memory," he said as he was getting ready for bed. He spoke softly, obviously concerned about what was happening.
"Tell me about it," I said.
He sat down on the side of his bed in his glow-in-the-dark Spiderman pajamas. "Well, when I read a book, it's like I start at the top of the page, but when I get to the bottom of the page, I can't remember what it's about. I can't remember the whole page. It's like I haven't even been reading."
"Hm. I bet that's a little scary. When did this start happening?"
He thought. "Maybe a little before I got sick."
I told him that sometimes our brains feel funny when we're sick, but he was sure it started happening before that.
"And it's not with all my books. Just some."
"Liiiiike...well, it happens with 'The Horse and His Boy.'" (by C.S. Lewis, fifth in the Narnia series, and my least favorite of the books.)
I smiled. "Any others?"
He shrugged. "I don't think so. It doesn't happen with, like my Jack and Annie books." (The Magic Treehouse series, which gets the Krupskaya Seal of Approval.)
"John, Horse and His Boy was written FOR grown ups."
He did a double take at me.
"You are reading a grown up book. And not only that, but here, think for a moment. What happens when you hold an empty cup under a faucet that's running fast?"
He thought. "It gets really, really heavy."
"Because of the water filling it up."
"Pretend the cup is your mind, and the water is all the new things you're learning. What happens when the cup --"
He jumped off the bed, delighted and relieved. "I know! I KNOW! It overflows! OH! I GET IT!"
I've said I only blog about the good times. It's true. I love it when I have the right answer. He slept soundly last night, and the two of us took a pre-dawn walk in the woods this morning. He was done worrying, for now.