The others would learn. Children always learn. They'd mimic, memorize, exhibit little unconscious influences in their speech, and here and there they'd solve a problem or create something new, like a snatch of melody or an ashtray. But his lessons were extreme, profound, and visceral. He was not sated until his lessons were completely internalized, no matter the price.

One autumn evening the children came trooping in, babbling one to the next to each about their games, their frogs, their leaf collections, and their Fleer trading cards, but he was not among them. I asked of his whereabouts, and they told me he was probably still at the playground where they'd left him, a good two hours ago. I sighed resignedly, picked up his sweater, and walked out into the crisp night.

It took me some time in the dim light, but I did find him at the playground. He was on the merry-go-round, spinning wildly. He held his body very close to the bar he was clutching, and then suddenly extended his arms to their full length, making the merry- go-round spin more slowly, then he drew himself in again, to increase the speed. He was controlling the speed of the rotation with his body. When he saw me, he dangled his feet over the edge, and scuffed at the ground until the merry-go-round stopped. I sat down beside him and handed him his sweater. He looked pale, and swayed a bit. "Thank you," he said, "it was much warmer when I began learning here."

"You look tired, and if I may say so, not at all well. You've surely been spinning long enough. Don't you want to come home yet?"

"Thank you again," he said, "but no. I'm learning how to use physics to manipulate my environment. This is a powerful lesson, but it is also vertiginous. I'll be home when I can."

On a holiday I took the children to the boardwalk and let them fly off free like uncaged birds. I watched them wrestle and frolic with abandon through the crowds and on the attractions with their tickets held preciously in their fists and their spun-sugar candy smeared lavishly on their cheeks. I noticed at last that I did not see him with them, and began striding purposefully through the crowds. When I could not find him beneath the boardwalk lights, I began to search the beach.

There he was, naked, standing up to his neck in the freezing water of a tide-pool. His clothes were folded neatly on a rock nearby. "And what lesson can you learn here but a lesson of fever and chillblain?" I demanded, outraged by his disregard for his own health.

"I'm sorry," he said, jolted out of his reverie, "you know I never mean to upset you like this, but I am learning about balance. I see now that one may either struggle for equilibrium alone, or one may be simply buoyed by the circumstances all around. I am also learning profound gratitude for the self-perpetuating warmth of my own body. This lesson requires sacrifice and patience, but I do not think the price is too costly."

"Young man, if you try a lesson this damaging in the future, I shall slap you, hard, and you will learn a great deal about self-perpetuating warmth from the back of my hand," I chastised, and unceremoniously grabbed him under his shoulders and plucked him out of the water. Then I held him to me, tight and warm, when his teeth began chattering uncontrollably. I too learned profound gratitude as I felt his cold, little limbs clinging to me.

I lost him over the lesson of the watch parts. One day I took the children to the flea market. I bought them all gewgaws and trinkets and toys, stuffed rabbits, barrettes, noisemakers, and balls. When I asked him if he had found anything that he wanted, he asked for an old pocketwatch, all green and black with patina. He clutched it all the

He did not come out for dinner. Around eleven, I took him a tray with a sandwich and milk. I entered the room quietly, and found that he had dissected the watch down to the last gear, had painstakingly laid out the pieces, and was rolling them around in his mouth, each by each. His poor mouth was raw and bleeding, but he would not cease, no matter how I pleaded. "I'm learning about artifice and about the interaction of edges," he said. "These lessons require intimacy, and pain."

I had a teacher and a counselor from the school come to see him. They examined him, interviewed him, and tested him privately. When they came out, they asked me for my signature, that they might take him to a special center where he might study, and be studied. I felt overwhelmed by his sagacity and recklessness. I could not control him, and feared what he might do to himself next. So I signed the documents, and made myself believe it was all for the best. The men were experts, after all.