Today, watching a fan while I was supposed to listening in math class, I figured out how servo motors work.

— Sullivan

“It’s disturbing how many people bring knives on dates.”

— Sullivan, reflecting on romantic carvings in the wooden observatory deck on the Bog Trail at Black Moshannon

“I also have some lead. I want to mail it to my Aunt Joanna in California and see how she reacts.”

— Sullivan, showing off his elements collection

Sullivan: Mom, can you snuggle me?
Carla: I already snuggled you.
Sullivan: But that one didn’t take.

Sullivan: Yeah, even Mimi’s inflatable balls are giant! [LAUGHTER] Put that on Familypants, Dad!
Scott: I’m not sure that I will…

If I’m ever going to become a successful scientist, I’m going to need less hair.

— Sullivan

[five minutes after bedtime lights out]
Sullivan: Mom?
Carla: Yes?! [long pause]
Sullivan: Why, when, or how did burritos originate?

After Sullivan switched from his ghost costume to wearing my peacoat for Halloween:

Neighbor: Who are you? Sullivan: I’m my dad.

Sullivan: Mom, come look at my parfait!
Carla: Oh, cute! It’s like a happy face.
Sullivan: Well, I was trying to make it look like a icosahedron.

I’m floored by Sullivan reporting today that he is bored with home life—and sad about it.

We are ready to send Everett and Oak home. But we’re not. I’m sure these are the typical feelings of a foster parent. Life is going to be different. Quieter. This evening without them because they’re with Mommy and Daddy makes that sure. But as Everett would surely reciprocate, “I will miss you, Everett.” And I will miss you, Oak. We still have three weeks with them, so let’s make them count.

We asked Éa and Sullivan today whether they’d like to foster again. Sullivan said, “I’d like a year.” And Éa said, “Yeah, in like, five thousand weeks.”

A home is fuller if you’re stretched for the sake of relationships. Let us dig in to more people. Let us “love [our] enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:35). Then I will live without regret.

You’re more helpful than a rabid dog!

— Sullivan, thanking a friend who was helping clean up

I feel better dancing when I’m on a precarious rock wall.

— Sullivan, explaining why he was dancing all by himself on a rock wall outside the tent at Megan’s wedding

One thing that pleases me—well, two: First, Mommy and Daddy snuggles. And second, rock dust on my hands.

— Sullivan

I’m ashamed to say this for my gender, but men sweat 40% more than women.

— Sullivan, responding to Lucy after she pointed out a sweaty jogger while they both rode in the car to her house

I am grateful for a wife whose life beckons me to be empathic. She came home from work and told me what she had found out from Carole via Facebook: that Janet has been transferred to Danville for a blood transfusion that she needs in order to be able to go through chemotherapy to fight the lymphoma. Carla told me explicitly that she wants me to feel sad like she does. I didn’t at first, and I still don’t very explicitly. It’s the lack of lucidity, the lack of being there that disturbs Carla—and indeed, that is the most disturbing thing about it. She wants to “doula” for Janet, camping out at the hospital or nursing home or wherever to advocate on Janet’s behalf. Janet had conjunctivitis for days before they put her on erythromycin for it—despite her having said something repeatedly to her caregivers about it. I say go, Carla, go, do the good work of advocating on behalf of the woman who taught us how to be neighbors.

I am grateful for a son who knows more and more what he wants out of life. One of those desires is simple: LEGOs, four sets of which he very happily and explicitly gratefully received as gifts yesterday for his birthday. His joy, gratitude, and assiduity made me proud.

A Birthday Encomium

Sullivan, you are a treasure chest. We’ve known that since the day we were blessed By your arrival eight years ago. But I’ll tell you what we didn’t know: We didn’t know just how rich we’d become, The manifold wealth of our newly born sum. Our 20-inch trunk is now fifty-three tall So say the strokes on our pencil-marked wall. But ‘tisn’t the size of the box gives a rush, ‘Tis the contents therein that make our hearts flush: Humor and trust, ‘magination and joy, Honesty, playfulness, ambition and, boy, Invention and wonder, forgiveness and caring, Spontaneity, patience, focus, and sharing. To know you is to open a lid and behold A beaming assortment of silver and gold— (Or palladium, perhaps, since I know that you’re able To prize all the elements on the whole table). Anyway, there’s so much in our oaken case, That I want to sing all over the place: “Hallelujah, we’re rich! Let’s shower in flowers! For Sullivan Oake Stilson is happily ours!”

Sullivan won the closest game of Sorry! conceivable this evening on our date.

I am grateful for Sullivan’s ingenuity, which he displayed in rare simplicity yesterday when I decided—the sagacious father that I am—to ask him how he would secure to the roof the one length of droopy Christmas lights. He asked, simply, “Dad, what is our roof made out of?” “Steel,” I replied. “Oh! Just use some of our magnetic clips from the refrigerator!” Later that day, I did. And it worked well.

I am also thankful for Carla’s helpfulness, which she displayed when she wrapped the books I plan to give to Aniyah and Axton for Christmas without me asking her to do it. When someone swoops down to do something from my to-do list without me having to prompt it, it is very loving to me.

I am grateful today for a son who grows in maturity and relatability. It was my honor to bring him to Panera this evening to share in a cherry pastry with him. We agreed it’d be good to learn computer programming together as father and son. I set a reminder for myself to look into the best, most child-friendly among the free starter courses that are cropping up seemingly everywhere online these days. We also played chess with a Super Mario set that Schlow Library had on hand.

I am grateful today for the evening of dress-up, make-up, dancing, and bathing together that Carla tells me she and Éa shared. I am glad they got to enjoy one another.

I am grateful for Greg Boyd, whose God at War Travis is reading at my recommendation while I re-read Satan and the Problem of Evil. Travis texted me this evening to chat briefly about how much he enjoyed Boyd’s use of quantum theory in the opening pages.

Here is a list of things from today that were gratifying, and which, therefore, because by some strange extension You are the giver of all good things, I thank You, God:

• tapas dinner with the Wendles at Barrel 21,
• deer hunting scouting time on the far bank of Spring Creek,
• agreeing with Ethan to meet him tomorrow morning at 5:45 to make use of said deer hunting scouting time,
• my beautiful wife who sat next to me at Barrel 21,
• my inventive Sullivan who made some Legos light up today at the Wendles’ house (while being babysat by Jeff and Denise), and
• my standing desk.

I am proud of my engineering-minded boy, this being an invention of his for transferring goods from his bunk to Éa’s and back, constructed of old box staples, string left over from the driveway sealers, paper, and electrical tape.

My favorite thing is to make that piano reveberate [sic] like an explosive bāss violin.

— Sullivan, pronouncing “bass” like the fish, explaining what he loves about playing his new instrument

Hey, Mom, I don’t know what would be worse: getting punched on the back of your head and falling on your face, or getting punched in the face and falling on the back of your head.

— Sullivan, breaking several minutes of in-car silence at 10 PM on a road trip to Pittsburgh

Carla: What were you dreaming about, Sully?
Sullivan: Different metals that are essential to life.
Carla: Oh! What metals are essential to life?
Sullivan: Well, I wasn’t really dreaming about the names. I was dreaming about their colors and crystal habits.