Everybody worries about their kids sometimes. There will always something about them that makes you wonder if they will be able to make it through life unscathed; whether those things are academic, social or emotional depends on the kid...or the hour of the day. I was having one of those moments the other day with Austin. He is so imaginative that sometimes I think he gets a little lost in his own thoughts. He was pretty excited because he had finally narrowed down "an-invention-that-will-get-me-into-the-book-of-world-records." That made me a little excited too, since he has been asking me, quite obsessively, for the last few weeks, what that invention should be. (Obviously, none of my very clever ideas ever made the cut.) And what would that winning invention be? A time-machine. Naturally.

Ideas were flowing so fast through Austin's head, that the ultimate vision was coming out a little convoluted by the time it passed his lips. Even once the words tumbled out, the mix of his excitement with his jumbled diction made it difficult to follow exactly what he was describing. I was doing my very best to keep my eyes focused on him for the eight minute overview I was getting (sans pauses for breathing) and I had to pat myself on the back for nodding at all the appropriate times. His description not only entailed a complex design (a large, circular dome with 'zooming' lights that flashed faster and faster) a very complex process (from what I understood, the person or item in the machine would shoot into space and come back down to earth at the right place and time) and of course, the purpose for such a machine. (to send letters to his best friend, Lizzy. Letters that would magically appear in her hands.) At one point, Austin must have caught me drifting because he took off, only to return with a hastily drawn out 'blueprint.'

You can see the dome with its flashing lights. The small items drawn around it are key pieces to the puzzle. Wires. Lights. A door. A letter. Lizzy.

Ethan, with his ever subtle and considerate manner yelled out from the other room. "You can't do that. It isn't possible. You don't even know how." Austin looked over his blueprint and shook his head. Then, with a voice shaky with emotion, he passionately stated/shouted, "No. I already know how to build it. All I need are wires, panels, plugs and lights. The only problem I have is where to build it." Before I could speak, Ethan came back with some equally enthusiastic rebuff but Austin was already lost again in his own thoughts. Staring hard at his blueprint, he had sullenly wandered off, muttering, what I am sure was, logistics and schematics to himself.

As I stared after him, I found myself wondering just how this child would ever make it through middle school. The vivid day dreams that no one but Alaina really has the patience to follow. The imaginary friends. The unclear speech. The precariously contained fizz-bottle of emotion that always threatens to explode or implode depending on the level of anxiety he feels. The viciousness of children who find an easy target for teasing and bullying. I started feeling weighted down with the fears of what Austin might possibly have to face in the future. Before I knew it, I had let my worries take me down the paths of worst possible scenarios. (I blame the pregnancy hormones) And then, I overheard my little angel Alaina talking to Austin in the other room. With nothing but unbridled enthusiasm she said, "Austin! You are so creative. You always think of such great inventions!" (Seriously. Those are the actual words that came out of that girl's mouth.) I could hear Austin smiling as he shrugged (yes...I also heard him shrug.) "Yeah. I know."

Instantly, I felt all of that silly worry dissolve back into a rational calm.

Yeah. I know.

Austin's gonna be fine. Because all those quirky, imaginative parts of him that could bring him such grief, will also bring him such success. Just where would this world be without our dreamers? We need people who not only can see out of the box, but also those who are unaware that 'the box' even exists.

Plus. He has Lainy. With his own personal cheerleader in one corner and the rest of us pulling for him in the other, I'm sure my sweet boy will make it through.

Imagine! Inventing an entire time-machine just to deliver love-letters.