Musician hair

I was on my computer at the kitchen table the other day, working through some tasks, when I happened to glance into the sunroom at Jackson, practicing his daily piano (unsolicited!) and wearing this:

He was playing with such feeling, like those great, crazy-haired composers of old. I just sat and watched this kid, who has always marched (and played) to his own beat, and who has always had a penchant for things on his head. (Anyone remember the underwear and goggles at age two?)

I love this boy, who has such a unique way of looking at the world. He’s in the thick of reading Harry Potter for the first time (!), but every time I spy on him he’s jumping around from chapter to chapter in some crazy pattern. For a completely linear reader like myself, I can’t fathom absorbing a book in such a manner, but I learned long ago that this boy’s brain works in a unique and special way. And I love him so much.

I love him despite the fact that last week he somehow managed to lock our kitchen pantry. For one panicked evening Seth did not have access to his chips-n-salsa and cereal, but after trying every key in the house, he finally managed to get that door open.

Jackson, no matter the age (or the headgear), you are always a show stopper.