seven year olds and dishwashing soap

i love hearing a seven year old's imagination come to life. i often wonder if they even see what i see or if their eyes put them in a completely alternate universe. running through a house suddenly becomes dodging skyscrapers, and jumping off chairs (however...i wouldn't suggest letting them do this often) suddenly becomes skydiving. there is no end to the way their brains can compose a beautiful scene. i hear his screams and conversations and his voice inflections, informing me that there are two people involved in this conversation, even though i can only see one of them. he whizzes past me, yelling something about how the world is coming to an end if they don't take care of the supervillian across town. i smile and giggle to myself as i get back to washing the dishes, remembering the days when i used to be the same exact way. but life happened to me. and when i start a conversation with someone only i can see, it causes people to question my sanity. when i jump off chairs and run around my apartment, people laugh. it's just part of growing up. i hear his tiny footsteps on the floor above my head, and i feel the immense innocence emanating through the house. i know i'm supposed to be cleaning, but i'm fascinated by this story he's written with his toys. a laugh echoes through the house, the kind of laugh that comes from deep within your belly. the kind that makes everyone around laugh. and so i laugh with him, and i don't care if i look crazy. all i know is that childlike innocence makes me happy. all i care about in this moment is the fact that i'm finally getting a vacation from my life. there's nothing more i desire than to run upstairs and join him. but i know i'm too old for that sort of thing now, so i turn my focus once again to washing the dishes. he runs around the living room again, shooting invisible webs out of his hands. then something about let's go get the guy! and he's off again.