Day Three-Fifty-Three: We all float down here, Dragomir

My son… my son is an oddity. And I think other people are beginning to notice it.

I, of course, am fully aware that Grayson is not normal. He's growing too quickly for a normal baby, like Eve, and also like his sister he's able to do things other kids can't. Like, y'know, messing with the wind and making stuff float. He's also able to speak in broken sentences - and don't think I've forgotten his pronouncement that Pagan would die if we left. 

You'd figure I would be more perturbed. After, uh, 'raising' a child like Lord Knight Eve, though, very little strikes you as abnormal. (Hell, compared to Eve, Grayson is downright normal so far.)

But… yeah… Grayson is odd…

Take today. I went about my rounds with Grayson cooing and laughing on my back, watching intently as I pointed out landmarks and trying to pronounce them with his still-babyish voice. He's pretty good with s-words, snow and snowball and stop throwing snowballs at me, but he's still working on his k-sounds, keep on throwing snowballs and I'll call your damned father on you. (I may have been naughty.)

I had some work to do on Morris' farm. Since his cows went AWOL he's been feeling rather purposeless, and I wanted to help him find something else to do with the little beat-up property. We were out by his busted-up fences, discussing other things he could do for the community, when we noticed Grayson doing something peculiar. 

"Hey, what's your son about?" Morris asked, pointing over my shoulder. "What's 'e up to, Drago?"

I turned to look. Grayson, having toddled his way out of his backpack enclosure, was holding one of the boards up to the fence, as though expecting someone to come in and nail it home. No bruiser like his sister, he was swaying back and forth in an effort to keep the board aloft.

"Ha, ha!" Morris chortled. "Good 'lil man you're raisin'! 'e'll be a great worker some day!"

I agreed, but I wasn’t smiling. I noticed that Grayson wasn't so much focused on getting the fence repaired as he was holding the board perfectly parallel to the two fence posts. He used his little feet to smooth the snow out so it was as even as possible, then struggled to keep the board nice and balanced, snorting and sniffling whenever it swayed too much to one side. 

Once it was perfectly level, Grayson stepped away and laughed. The board remained suspended in place, hovering over the ground.

Morris stopped laughing. "Whoa. How in the…?"

I stooped and picked up my son, sliding him into his backpack. He beamed at me with the greatest self-satisfaction. "Don't mind that. You, uh, you keep quiet about this, Morris, okay? Please?"

Morris nodded. He's a genial fellow, and big on gabbing, but he knows when to hold his tongue. I thanked him, told him we'd talk again later, and whisked Grayson away. Part of me wanted to scold him for making things float, but how do you do that and NOT sound like a crazy person?

There's more, and it only started to happen recently. Grayson… I have a ton of fun with Grayson, don't get me wrong. I treasure the time we spend together. I even enjoyed changing his diaper while it still needed changing. (He knows how to go on his own now.) He's my son, he's the way I wanted to raise Eve, and I relish every second I get to spend with him. Even if I have to occasionally explain away weird stuff he does, he is my son.

But he makes me nervous.

His eyes make me nervous.

There's… there's something in 'em. Something that looks past the surface, deep into your soul. Like he's searching you, probing you for something you can't see in yourself. It's a look that's way too old for a kid his age, still little more than an infant. It's gotten so bad that I can barely look him in the face anymore, and when I have to force myself to do it, I get weak in the knees.

Lords above help me, I pray this is just a phase.

Still not sure what to get or make for Grylock. Maybe I should have set Allofusmas NEXT week instead - I bet everyone's feeling similar pressure. Man, this holiday's not as fun as it first sounded at all.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Mayor