Freestyle Week #2

I took Hagen into school with me today. It isn’t the first time. He’s a regular there now. Walks right in and acts as though he owns the place. He introduced Thomas the Train to one of my instructors, talked to two students that are in my class, drank water from every water fountain, counted the locks and named their colors. He jumped from red tile to red tile on the floor carefully avoiding the white ones and checked out the acoustics in each of the hallways (sorry about that to those of you that were studying). He annoyed the math and science department (they’re such a serious lot), entertained at the bookstore and caused backups in the parking lot. He ran and jumped and played and amused himself in every manner possible as we walked the halls. I watched the looks on people’s faces as we passed them. Most had a kind word for him or at least a smile but he caught a couple of dirty looks during his more rambunctious moments. By the time we left we were both exhausted. He fell asleep in the van on the way home.

I watch my older son Aska in his refined (ahem) teenaged years moving through his environment with a cool haughty air about him. He wouldn’t dream of running and playing anymore and looks at me in a disgusted way when I suggest it, which I do quite frequently. Sometimes I even make him.

The three of us went for a walk this afternoon. Hagen was running and playing in front of Aska and I yelling for us to run with him. “It’s fun!” he kept saying. Aska and I were talking about his role in this evening’s play and how lucky that the inclement weather of Wednesday postponed the run until Friday so that I could see it. We talked of algebra and imaginary numbers and suddenly, with no warning Aska punched my arm and cried “You’re it!” and ran away. We chased each other, the three of us for the rest of our “walk”, running and playing and remembering, each of us in our way what it was like to be a child.