legacy

 

I took a set of the paperbacks over to my son's house yesterday. As I handed the books to Missy, Charlie said "Oh. Prophets Tango!" 

He held it close as if he was trying to see the rest of the woman's face. Put his finger on her cheek. "Is this Bea?"

"Yes, but she's all grown up in this one. Calls herself Anna. Annabea or Bea was her little girl name."

He took that in without comment. I was writing this with my right hand while I held him cradled in my left arm. He turned seven last week.

I've been storytelling with him. Making up adventures for Little Bea and her invisible sidekick Ace who is a smart-mouth Barbary ape. They get up to all kinds of no good and get away with most of it. 

The story I'm stealing from is actually not for children although I may have to write one just for him.

I dearly hope his parents keep him from reading this one until he's old enough. Like 21. If I'm still around, I'll have some explaining to do.

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