Wistful Winslow

Sometime in late October or early November Winslow and I were standing outside.  It was dusk and we were about to come inside for the evening.  He looked into the sky and said "I want to fly in air." It had this really plaintive quality to it, almost as though he knew it wasn't and would probably never be, possible.  I was struck deeply because 1) I had never seen him in that mode (of course it is entirely possible that I am just reading into it) and 2) it is something I have thought a lot about -- as you grow older the magic and possibility that seem part of the the world begin to evaporate-- and how and if and to what degree a parent should work to preserve that sense.  Both I. and I gravitate toward encouraging magical thinking almost indefinitely but I wonder how our feelings on this might change as Winslow grows.  ~b