Mind pondering a dozen interlocking puzzles, it would take a stronger will than mine to get to sleep.  A passing thought about the winning combination of mildness and great intelligence of our dying host, the comfortable bed might as well be a trampoline, but not because our host appears so near the end.  Sekhnet is taking in and whooshing out the deep, puffing breaths of exhausted sleep, I’m  out from under the covers, doing a little staccato tapping, trying to get some thoughts arranged here, and out of my head.

Unleashing creativity is blessed work and I hope one day it will pay a few salaries (with a health plan) and spread from kid to kid, skills mastered and taught to other kids.  Proving what every adult knows, but so often forgets– kids are capable of many amazing things- and all of their creativity will be needed to avert the impending many-headed disasters that loom and leer, while greed gloats, and amasses weapons to defend its prerogatives. Meantime, how to get them to really care about their creations?  They are like the wanton gods in Shakespeare who create with indifference and tire quickly of their playthings.  Some call out for more structure, others need less.  My faith in their powers makes me forget sometimes that this one is only 7, that the oldest is only 11.  That they are also childish is something I need to not forget.  How to nudge them the right way, get them to refine their ideas and collaborate while leaving them free to invent and run things is one piece of the puzzle I turn like a kid playing with a loose molar, pushing it every possible way.

The most essential puzzle now is how to get a key number of bright, undistracted adults into the room with these animating kids and afterwards help me to make this delicate new being into a sturdier creature that will walk this troubled world with a light and whimsical step, stomping hard when necessary, but never causing harm.