The good Lord knew what he was doing when he made children. We could have all come into being some other way--you know, arriving here all grown up, having skipped childhood altogether. But we didn't. No cloning; instead rites of passage. And thank goodness. Cloning would cheat the world of that beautiful cherry-chapstick flavor of children.
I was driving Jenna to school this morning when something caught her eye in the car that she'd never noticed before. We were making a right turn, and for the first time she noticed the blinking arrow on the dashboard, better known to you and me as a turn signal.
"Mom, why is that arrow blinking?"
"It's a turn signal. It lets other drivers know we're turning up ahead."
"How? How do they see it?"
"Well, it's connected to the lights on the back of the car, and when I turn it on, a light blinks on the back of the car so everyone knows we're turning. That way we don't all crash into eachother--mostly."
"Wow."
"Yah, pretty smart, huh?"
"Do all cars have them, or just ours?"
"All cars."
"Whooo."
Then we started looking up ahead, playing a new turn signal game, yelling, "There's one!" every time we saw a car with its blinker on. "Look, he's turning!" she'd say with nothing short of glee, having figured out for the first time how all this car turning stuff works.
It was simple, you know? Simple, beautiful connecting of cognitive gaps. I helped her connect this one, and she'll have it from now on. This morning we sewed together one of life's little secrets: the turn signal truth.
What a wonderous morning for both of us.
