He reads Isaac Newton while sitting on the toilet. He fasts through lunch nearly once a week. This, by the way, gets tricky when we're at the playground and Bright is lying on a park bench sipping water. "He's not sick," I assure the other moms, "he's just fasting." He lays hands on his little sister in the doctor's office. He makes up his own expletives to express his emotions, such as "Joff!" (used to express frustration or disappointment). He recently learned about divorce, and has decided that a man's second wife should be called a "step wife." Why not? He needs a haircut (as evidenced by this picture) but his mother doesn't have time for that these days. He won't give up his mesh shorts for the season, so his legs are constantly goose-bumped. He still picks his nose in front of girls. We're working on that. He bakes a mean batch of banana muffins. His free-hand drawing is suddenly quite impressive. He knows more about most things than I do, and I get sad when I haven't seen his moonlight-pale face in over an hour. Bright Eyes, you are quite a guy.
