Welcome to another issue of It’s Like This. Thanks for reading – and hey, here’s something new – if you want me to read this to you, click the audio link above! And, let me know what you think (still figuring out how to record, so it’s probably pretty rough!)

Ah! A mind-meld! Good idea, let’s try that.

My son has leaned toward me, bending down to get eye-level with his short mom, and touched his forehead to mine. He locks eyes with me, a grin brightening his face. 

Foreheads still together, I begin to hum. 

Thought-transfer commencing…

He pulls his head back and giggles, bouncing on his toes away from me again.

Oh, you broke the link! Darn, our telepathy didn’t work that time. 

I know he’s probably about to ask for a snack, or to watch one of his movies. But I try not to speak for him, not wanting to put words in his mouth.

Buddy, you’ll have to tell me what you’re thinking about another way. But hey, we’ll keep trying for that mind-link though, okay? How cool would that be?

When I was a child, I went through a phase when I really, really wanted to have special, secret powers. I read a book called The Girl with the Silver Eyes – its tag line was: “It’s fun to make things move just by thinking about them.” I wanted that girl’s telekinetic ability! Not the Firestarter-kind that sets things ablaze or hurts people. Just the “float a pen in the air” kind of stuff.

I spent hours staring at objects to try to make them move without touching them. I even have a vague memory of standing in the bathroom and mixing together a “potion” – I’m pretty sure it included a few drops of shampoo and bubble bath – somehow convinced that drinking soapy water would spark some enchanted transformation in me.

Luckily, I didn’t have to endure the magic of a stomach pump after that. Kids are dumb.

Today, although my middle-aged muscles would probably appreciate that effort, I’ve given up on the dream of developing that power to move things with my mind.

The gift of mind-reading could come in handy though.

You know, we have the technology to tap our devices together to transfer data or “air drop” files at a short distance. My son and I could use a little bit of that – a Vulcan mind meld trick to eliminate the need for those pesky spoken words.

Some magic can happen, though, if I focus. 

No, my thoughts are not going to reach out and move my son to empty the dishwasher without an argument, although that’d be convenient.

And, our minds are often not connecting at all.

But I’m learning that there’s a certain power in being still; in dropping the multi-tasking, in being present to whatever is happening right now. Not giving in to the temptations of my emails or my unending to-do lists or the worries swirling around in my head.

As the Zen joke goes – “Don’t just do something, sit there.”

Especially when my son is in the mood to be with me.

Part of this effort involves something my kid asked of me years ago when he was a pre-teen. 

In a school-morning flurry to get out the door, he once told his mother to “Stop the talking.”

For the record, I’m not very good at this yet. It’s a hard habit to break – giving instructions, asking questions, coaching responses, filling the silences. I’m describing an ideal here that I am aspiring to – and like eating better and exercising, I’m really good at ignoring my own advice. 

But, if I can slow down and give him time to process his thoughts on his own,

if I don’t jump in right away when it looks like my kid has something to say,

if I don’t “helpfully” guess his thoughts all the time,

if I can remember to simply sit still and “stop the talking”,

I’ll leave space to hear him.

My quiet presence opens up the opportunity for him to share his words with me, when he’s ready, on his own. Or, perhaps better yet, create a space that says it’s perfectly fine if we don’t talk at all.

When he smiles in that way that I just know he’s got something on his mind, I try to remember not to immediately ask “What do you want?” 

I might say, “Oh! You’re happy today, it’s nice to see you smiling.” 

Or I might simply grin, too, and adopt a reassuring stance that says go ahead, ask, I’m open, I’m listening.

Chances are, he won’t say anything.

Or he’ll laugh and shout, “Cookie!” which will prove I’m a skilled mind reader after all.

But sometimes, if I can be quiet, he’ll come over to lean in and rest his head on mine.

Maybe that physical contact is not going to result in telepathic thought-transference.

But if I’m lucky, I’ll get that rare instant when he chooses to be close to me.

When he offers to touch me.

When he is content to look me in the eye. 

A moment like that says a lot.

And, that’s really just the kind of magic I need.

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