Last Christmas, an aunt gave Mbot the Pottery Barn Kids black retro telephone that really works, if you have a land line. We do not. I told Mbot last December twenty-sixth that we could only pretend talk on it because it didn’t have electricity. About a month later, I hid it in the laundry room because the old fashioned handpiece on the end of the old-fashioned cord had been utilized more as a real weapon than as a pretend communication device. I had forgotten about it until today. We’d passed some repairmen working on a telephone pole.
From the backseat:
Mbot: “The man who fixes the electricity tree makes it strong. The electricity tree that doesn’t have any branches or leaves. There’s electricity at our house, Gbot, except…except” (voice saddens, corners of mouth turn down), “it’s not in my phone.”
Mbot, suddenly close to tears: “It’s crying so much.”
Me: “What’s crying, Moon Pie?”
Mbot: “The electricity cord that can’t be in my telephone.”
What secret desires are hiding all around you?