MIND THE MONSTERS

Dragons, Be Real

Though monsters slay me, yet will I love them

by author

A long time ago, when my son, Sawyer, was a child, he asked a question about the world, and I answered too quickly.

And badly.

Sometimes you do that as a parent. Let’s say one of your children asks which one of them you love the most, and you accidentally answer honestly.

There’s no backpedaling. You either continue loving the better ones best, or you try to love the worst one equally, which confuses and damages everyone, for the better children will not understand why you’re wasting your love, and the lesser child, who is unaccustomed to support and affection, will suffer the psychological version of bowel inflammation, what is known in farm terminology as “the frothy bloat.”

Sawyer didn’t ask which child I love most, because he didn’t have to; he’s my only child. But from what I know about my heart, even if he had siblings, I would love him more. I have what’s known as a shrinking heart condition: The more people in my life, the more I hate redundancies.

Anyway, here’s the question Sawyer did ask:

“Are dragons real?”