My father has been into model airplanes forever. I bet he cannot count how many planes he owns with any degree of accuracy. Certainly he has no idea how many he has owned over the years. And, over those years he has searched for someone in the family to share his joy, his love, of these planes.

I do not fully grasp the phenomenon - this club of people who share their afternoons in a field of grass with their necks cranked backward, whiffing the gasoline, demonstrating the dexterity of their thumbs. But, I digress. Grampy has been slowly introducing--some might say brainwashing--Mason into this world of model airplanes. And, despite my best efforts, the kid is fully hooked. He throws those little wooden planes at least 500 times in a row. He finally splintered the latest balsa wood plane, so he fabricated his own. Paper will have to do for now, but I'm sure that somehow another wood plane will soon make its way into our house. It's a love I don't understand, but it runs deep.