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no foolin'

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Today I had fun teasing my son with the reflection coming off of the glass face of my watch. Strong sunlight was pouring in, allowing me to put a bright spot on the ceiling and the unlit portions of the wall (an old game for a 37-year-old but simple minds are easily entertained). Young Kenny fell for the trick for a while, following the bright circle raptly.

But as I started bringing the reflected light closer to us, his expression changed. I thought back to my early childhood and the demented joy I'd get from taunting my apprehensive little brother with simple/non-existent fears (e.g. telling him, "the draft is going to get you, Kenny!" after we'd overheard a parent mention that there was a cold draft in the house).

But this Kenny was different. He put a hand on my arm, perhaps having noticed that the bright spot was moving with the motions of my arm. Then he confirmed my guess by turning to watch me angle the watch. The ten-month-old let out a short laugh when he'd figured it out.

After that we laughed together as I shined it on his face or mine, delighting in the simple fun. But it just wasn't the same as a good teasing.