"See?"

When I spied him assertively clambering around in the branches of the lilac amongst the remains of our tree house, I moved closer.

I didn't say anything, but he replied anyway, "Don't worry, Teacher Tom. I won't fall."

"I'm good at falling."

"If I start to fall, I just grab a branch and then I don't fall. I even like falling . . . because I'm good at it."

I said, reciting the idiom as I'd learned it, "It don't hurt you when you fall, son, only when you land."

He responded, "It doesn't even hurt me when I land because I land on my feet!" With that he let himself plummet before grabbing a branch with one hand, hung there for a beat, then twisted his body to land on two feet on the steep slope, all in one fluid motion. "See?"

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