The doorbell rings but I’m not sure I heard it. I lean back in my chair, straining my hearing towards the hallway, and listen. I hear small feet running to the front of the house. “Who is it?” My son’s voice echoes up the stairs and through the hall. No answer. He knows exactly what that means. “Brown truck guy!”

I hear the front door open. And then, excitedly, “Dad! Dad! We got a package!”

I call back down, “Oh, good! Can you bring it up, please?”

I listen and hear shuffling. The stomping stops about halfway up the stairs giving way to the sound of cardboard sliding around, being readjusted. Must be a relatively big box, I think. Then a quick burst of stomping and he rounds the corner into my office carrying a nondescript medium-sized brown cardboard box. “What is it?” he asks breathlessly. His wide eyes are locked on the box.

“Let’s see. This looks like…” I look at the label. “Yep, it’s a camera.”

He wrinkles his nose. “A camera?”

“Yeah. The people who made it sent it to me so that I could try it out. Then I write about it. And then I send it back.”

He looks at the box. He looks at me. His expression changes from ardent curiosity to what do you mean there are no toys? “Fun, huh?” I suggest.

“No, Dad.” He turns and walks away. “Boring.”

Comments

1. knwd on 2008-07-16 06:01:50 wrote: He just doesn’t realize that a camera IS a toy. Give him time…