“Isaac!” I called from downstairs. He did not come. I went upstairs expecting to find him in his grandmother’s room watching cartoons on her computer again. He was not there.

I walked into his room and found him using the bottom step of the bunk beds as a worktable as he carefully poked, prodded, cut, molded and pinched some soft clay into shape.

There was something we were supposed to do, but this is not something to interrupt. In this house we do not interrupt drawing, painting, Lego-building, reading, writing, paper-cutting, block tower building, clay sculpting, or quiet sibling conversations. We do not interrupt sandbox digging, birdwatching, or talking to the cat and dog.

Because those things are the very important work of childhood.