believe

We walked past a dead rabbit in the alley on the way to pick up Tuck from school.  Tollie tried to convince me that the rabbit was just sleeping.  I wondered aloud whether the road was a good place for a nap.  He argued it was a fine place for a tired rabbit to rest.

When we tell him we need to run to get coffee, he swears the coffee store is closed.  And the haircut store is never open.  And his pediatrician is too busy to check him over.
On school days he tries to convince us that Miss Rosa is sleeping.  And that all his friends are sick.
He insists that he does not speak English, that I am not female.  That he is not a nice brother, is not a great sharer, is no good at reading.
He is confident that Santa cannot see him and that THERE ARE NO ELVES WATCHING.

He is sure that he is six years old.  He is convinced that big boys can light candles.  He knows that he has a sister.

Where is truth, I wonder?  Where is what's real when the world around us feels way truer than the invisible thing that purportedly holds it all together.  Can belief and disbelief coexist?

Sometimes I think Tollie thinks he can believe something so hard he becomes right.

Sometimes I wish I could do the same.