Little Rat

Last night Little Rat said How come you didn't name me Tyson?

Tyson? You've got to be kidding me. Don't you like your name?

It's okay, I guess.

It's a strong name, a Bible name.

Then you should've just named me Goliath instead.

He has gotten so tall, so composed and engaging. His skin still has the same dry brown scent, though, as when he first came to us. He used to play violent games with his fingers and draw so far into himself that I couldn't fathom how he'd find his way out.

Little Rat, there are so many mysteries in life. I don't know if we will get to take naps in Heaven, why the blonde girl in your computer class doesn't notice your funny sweetness ( I just can't take her out of my mind), why we didn't name you you Tyson. The biggest mystery, though, the one wakes me up in the middle of the night, that crowds my vacant moments is: how does your hair always stay dry, no matter how long you swim beneath the water's surface?