The most interesting thing about me

After my first day of volunteering with first graders, I realized I needed paper.  For one thing, when they get to write with my pen, they feel like they won the lottery.  For another thing, you just need paper.  I think and explain and show with pen and paper.

I grabbed an old cast off composition book from a bookshelf and stashed it in my bag and I take it with me to the school.

You have no idea how fascinating this notebook is to every single child.

They run their fingers over it.  They ask me questions.

"Where did you get this notebook?"

"It's used to be my son's," I tell them.  Then, because they usually give me a sideways look, like they're wondering if they're dealing with a kleptomaniac here, I add,  "He didn't need it anymore.".

"You have a son?"

"Who colored it?"

"What did he color it with?"

"But where did you buy it?"

"Why is it colored like that?"

"How did it get like that?"

The same questions over and over and over because I work with different children all the time.

I never thought an old notebook that Braeden colored one time probably out of sheer boredom would be the most interesting thing about me.

Maybe I should bring Braeden to the school with me and they can climb all over him like an interactive museum exhibit.  The man behind the notebook.