|The shirtless wonder
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Sarah and I were taking Tyler for a walk last week. We were walking down 7th Street, which is the main drag of our quaint little town. To our left, we could see the water tower.
Before I continue, sorry the ADHD is taking hold, I have to say this. They (they being an unknown entity) painted the water tower recently. I noticed that they put on a primer coat of gray paint. That seemed to take a couple weeks. I remember, one day, they had some type of cloth cover over the whole thing. Well, I was driving home a few days ago and, ALL OF A SUDDEN, I see that the entire thing had gotten it’s final coat. How the heck did they do that so quickly? There isn’t any lettering on the top of the tower yet, and I really don’t know if they will put anything there. I wouldn’t be surprised to see something up there that mentions the ACD Museum. Maybe “Auburn, it’s a Deusey! nyuk nyuk nyuk”
Anyway, we’re going for a walk and I look at the water tower. That’s when it dawned on me that I have to teach Tyler EVERYTHING I know. He’s going to ask me what the stars are, how door locks work, how to tie a knot, how to drive, how plants grow… everything. I got scared.
Tyler was awake at the time, so I started talking. I figured I better start now, because I’ve got a lot of stuff to go over with him over the next 80 years or so.
“Tyler, that’s a water tower. There’s about a million gallons of water in there. See, big pumps push the water up into the tower. Gravity tries pulling the water back down some other pipes in the tower. This creates water pressure. Those pipes go everywhere, including to our house. When we turn a faucet on, the force of gravity pushing on the water in the tower pushes it through all the pipes and out the faucet.”
Tyler didn’t seem to care. I may have to explain that to him again in a few years. I did get a reaction from Sarah though. She said, “Wow, I didn’t even know that”.
Of course, my ego shot up a hundred-fold, so I followed up with, “Yeah, that’s why we can still get water when the power goes out. There’s usually a full day’s worth up there.”
The problem is, there’s a lot… a LOT… that I don’t know. Tyler won’t ask me easy stuff, like “how do you tie a shoe?” or “where is the ground?”. He’s going to ask stuff I have no knowledge of. I don’t mind saying “I don’t know” a few times, but I’m scared that I may be saying it over and over again to some of his questions. I’m going to have to make a list of the things he asks me, get on google when he goes to bed, and get some answers for him for the next day.
I could always just take the easy way out and say “it’s magic” to all his questions. I think I could get away with that for a while, right?
“Dad, how do they get the people inside the TV?”
“It’s magic, son. Magic.”
“How do cars work, daddy?”
“That’s magic also, boy.”
“Where to babies come from?”
“From dark magic, Tyler. Voodoo stuff.”