“Isaiah,” I ask him, “what color is your balloon?”
“Green,” he says. This makes me happy, because we were beginning to think the boy is color blind.
“What color are your pants?” I ask. They are yellow.
He bends at his ample waist to look at them. He looks at me. He looks at his pants again. “Um, not green.”
It’s a start.
This is How You Heal the Wound
The Subdivision
On the Virtues of Peeing Outside
Imagination destruction
The Things We Build
Our Love Affair With Fairs
Curse of the Greedy Copyright Holders
Boy, the Scout Handbook Keeps Changing
Ya Gotta Have (Real) Friends
G.K., Santa, and Me
How Can I Teach My Kids to Work?
Intelligence Designer
Elective
The Glass Child
Name
The Grace I Know
Coming Apart
Uninterested
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