If you look hard, you can see where he cut his hair, right at his forehead

The other day Kid A was asking me if there was a way to avoid paying money for electricity."Ye-es," I said. "If you have solar power or wind power or hydro power from your own equipment, you won't have to pay money."

Leafy looked up from turning somersaults on my bed. "Solar power," he said, "is an orange ball of power that you hold in your hands and it makes you strong."

We all just looked at him.

This is my Leafy Boy.  Spending his days in the wilderness of his imagination, surfacing only for cuddles and food and sometimes even not for those, since food can fuel any amount of pretending and cuddles can be between a mama dog and her puppy.

When he's naughty I have to come very close to him.  "Leafy, look at me."  He usually avoids it, looking wildly around or covering his face with his hands.  "Leafy, look at my eyes."  When I can get him to really tune into me, then we can talk. He's brilliant, telling stories and dancing almost from waking to sleeping.  He's a flash of light, a comic imp, and he's still sorting out what the difference is between truth and what he's convinced himself is true.

He's amazing.  I'm rather privileged to be around this little mind in the growing stages.  If nothing else, it's just a lot of fun.

(But I think there will be big somethings in this kid's life.)