![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_8Uz_X_28FFAFb4C9v6-Ye9_PpNsH6Pig4F0kaNIuo1JFJe7OIp0P4dE7CDnsapq1Wi7Rwsa-IfB6tU7Z4qCYrf6tXBpzurZmyraNafLRvah2X29g4wVnUgHn6Xk_9iIpgO_P0i9HX1P/s200/keyboard2.jpg)
I love the images this child brings up when he tries to express himself in words the best way he can. I immediately turn to him, trying to read the emotion in his face.
Again, he laments, "My heart feels empty." Oh, the saga of a sad little boy. I stand up to go to him, wanting to take him into my arms and hold him, filling up all those empty spaces with the totality of motherly love.
I lie down next to him, and start to draw him close to me. He pulls away and says, "The computer always makes me feel better. Can I go on it?"
R-i-i-i-p the gentle music.
After some wrestling and laughter, he is sent to finish up his chores before getting on the computer. I lie there thinking, "What have we come to?" I know I am not replaceable, but it still makes me want to take a fist to our technology.
"One of these days, Alice. Pow! Right in the kisser!"
.