My son has reached an age when he loves to get my goat. Take the word “balls” and what a nine-year-old boy can get up to with a Christmas tree:
“Look at these balls!” He holds up two red ornaments.
“Yep. Those are balls,” I say.
“Let’s hang the balls on the tree!” A storm of giggling.
This is normal and hilarious. But when I get annoyed at his subversiveness, I’ve learned to pay attention. And when I catch myself thinking what the heck is wrong with him?, I know he’s pushed a personal button I need to think about.
His latest button push, in fact, involves everything my professional life is based on. It’s about books and reading and how we take in information. It’s about the literal buttons I push on my Kindle.