Yesterday I drove to Greenville to watch a friend’s softball game in Cleveland Park. While I was sitting there, I was reading during the lulls in the game a book called [1] Anger is a Choice by Tim LaHaye and Bob Phillips. A little boy came over to the bleachers on which I was sitting and began climbing around the back end of the things–on the outside part. Essentially, if he had lost his grip, he would have fallen around 10′ to the dirt below. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and, smiling, admonished him several times to be careful.

Near the end of the game, he came up to me, looked me in the eye, and said, “You look like a counselor.” I laughed and thanked him, then asked him why he thought so. “I dunno, you reading a book, dressed nice.” (I was wearing khaki pants and a black-and-white striped Polo-style shirt.) He then asked me what I was reading, and when I told him, I could hear him mouthing the title almost inaudibly to himself, mulling it over.

I thought that was a little funny, a little sad, and very interesting. It has made me think about, among other things, the intimidity of children in speaking their minds. I loved the inquisitive adventuresomeness of this kid.

Yesterday I drove to Greenville to watch a friend’s softball game in Cleveland Park. While I was sitting there, I was reading during the lulls in the game a book called [2] Anger is a Choice by Tim LaHaye and Bob Phillips. A little boy came over to the bleachers on which I was sitting and began climbing around the back end of the things–on the outside part. Essentially, if he had lost his grip, he would have fallen around 10′ to the dirt below. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and, smiling, admonished him several times to be careful.

Near the end of the game, he came up to me, looked me in the eye, and said, “You look like a counselor.” I laughed and thanked him, then asked him why he thought so. “I dunno, you reading a book, dressed nice.” (I was wearing khaki pants and a black-and-white striped Polo-style shirt.) He then asked me what I was reading, and when I told him, I could hear him mouthing the title almost inaudibly to himself, mulling it over.

I thought that was a little funny, a little sad, and very interesting. It has made me think about, among other things, the intimidity of children in speaking their minds. I loved the inquisitive adventuresomeness of this kid.