On the physics of childhood

There is a dividing line between childhood and the rest of life.

I have perceived this since I was on the other side of it, gazing up at my parents who were free to choose their own shoes and knew how to drive, who made fabulously affecting decisions, and took care of my earaches.

The very structure of the universe is a different state in the mind of a child; they have their own set of physical laws.

A damp blue towel dragged from the bathroom down the stairs, across the carpet, around the kitchen with an awakened cat riding on it, wide-eyed and blinky, the sudden tourist, all of it disappears completely like the sweet dew in late morning when there is a knock on the door and just the top of a head in the window.

Poof!

It utterly ceases to exist until much later, when a predictable causative agent intervenes, shrilly most likely, and reconstructs, atom by atom, a dull cold replica of ancient blue terry cloth, and forthwith connects it directly to a haughty king or a clever orphan or a kindly zookeeper.

Adults are twisty like this, fond of stark actuality and loaded with plans for character building.

To a child, this is false and unnecessary. Unjust. Picky. Radically out of synch with the moment.

Children are the maestros of entropy. It is, more than a condition, a working concept.

With all the activities required of them, so much of their energy is unavailable for cleaning and chores. There is little point to all the commotion made about getting things done on time or before dark or before freedom, etc.

They know there are better things to be doing than engaging the ennui of maintenance tasks which result, almost always, in returning objects right back where they were in the first place, whereby, technically, they have not moved through space and thus no work has been done, despite all the assertions and bother and unnecessary ado.

Let us be, they declare, with our archetypical bedrooms moving inevitably from order into disorder.

Increasingly savvy youngsters know to claim this as nature taking its course; among my children, arguments to this effect have begun, with each successive child, at an earlier age.

The creation of matter is elementary.

Until they are employed for gain and experience the exchange of significant time and labor for significant cash, basic materials have no real, known point of origin, therefore no history.

Things appear.

Dinner is provided. Unlike the cookies, which one does make, children often play until they are summoned, and dinner is on the table.

Small amounts of money are often simply available.

Parents usually exude it.

It occurs naturally in their pockets as it does in the washing machine and certain miscellaneous drawers.

It comes from bottles and cans and tooth fairies who trod heavily on the staircase and leave silly notes in familiar handwriting.

Cause and effect before wedlock and childbearing is a set of observations rather than a governing principle.

Like mathematics there is a delightful hint of flexibility when dealing with the more sophisticated aspects.

It is negotiable. Usable. Entertaining.

Catching one's daddy interring a dead goldfish by tossing it outside to the kitties will likely translate, as the price of sacrilege, into a brand new aquarium with a bubbler.

Or, smiling very sweetly, will often insure that one's daddy will eat one's apple cores, stem and all, which is lovely and amusing to watch.

Eventually we trade this trusted set of wonders for crass reality and it is, understandably, a gradual process.

We learn things, which requires a relinquishing of old thoughts and an expansion of our personal frontiers.

Fideo is a comfort food, which usually means universal appeal, a meeting of the minds.

A dry vermicelli soup from Mexican cuisine, passed on to me by an enigmatic adult child person, it is mild and delicious, ideal for the transitions of the season.

Break into 2" strips:

1 10 oz package coil vermicelli

and fry in:

2-4 Tbsp. cooking oil

Stir constantly until lightly browned. Remove noodles and leave the oil in the pan.

Sauté in the oil:

1 onion, minced

When the onion is translucent, lower the heat slightly and add:

2-3 cloves fresh garlic, minced

Don't let the garlic brown. Add:

1 16 oz. can tomatoes, drained, chopped

1/2 tsp. sugar

1/2 tsp. oregano

1/2 tsp. sweet basil

Return the vermicelli to the pan. Add and stir well:

1 C. chicken broth

salt and pepper to taste

Cover the pan and cook over low heat for 30 minutes, stirring often to prevent sticking.

If there is much liquid left in the pan, allow it to cook uncovered for a few minutes.

Sprinkle with Parmesan or other cheese before serving.

It will vanish, turning to into light.