I look over and see Reed playing with his shoes. Reed stops.

Reed: I was playing with my shoes.

Me (Firmly): That was the past. What are you doing now?

Reed (Slowly): Not playing with my shoes.

Me (More firmly): Good. And… in the future?

Reed: No one knows the future.

Ah, yes.

I was wondering when my own words would fall upon my ears, again.

Last week, Reed asked about Chinese zodiac signs. Not wanting Reed to think his life could be neatly described in a single paragraph, I slipped in a not-so-subtle warning: No one knows the future.

However, today… I couldn’t resist declaring:

I can predict the future.

Reed (Rather anti-climatically): What does ‘predict’ mean?

Me: ‘Predict’ means saying something will happen in the future and it does. Like: I predict we will turn left at the next light.

I turn left unnecessarily at the intersection.

Reed’s eyes widen in amazement.

Me (Unable to contain my amusement): I predict we will turn right!

And… I turn right — into a loud cheer from Reed. It feels awesome.

Reed (Joining in): I predict we will turn right.

Me: Well, I predict we will turn left.

And… I turn left. Reed roars. Turn right! Turn right! Turn right!

I ignore Reed’s command-slash-predictions.

Me: Do you know why I can predict the future?

Reed (Suddenly serious and attentive): No.

Me: Well, I can only predict what I control.

And, yes. Reed knows the word ‘control.’ But that’s another story…

Me: You can predict that you will be playing with your shoes because you control your own actions. Like the way I control the car.

Reed (Reaching for his shoes): I predict that I will play with my shoes.

Me: I predict you won’t get any dessert.

Reed freezes.

And before this turns into a test of wills, I offer a way out:

BUT… I can’t predict if _mom_ will give you dessert because…?

Reed: You don’t control mom.

I predict I never will.