Not touching the iTouch, Jeb dives into Legos. While I work, he sits beside me creating countless structures in the third dimension. Interactions and melodramas can be heard as he mumbles dialogue between Lego guys.

Not immune to the ways of war, these little dudes usually come with some sort of miniature weaponry.

Knowing my pacifist tendencies, Jeb points out, “Hey, Mom, look at this.”

A Lego version of a trash can has been filled with a slew of black rifle replicas, each one smaller than a toothpick.

“Mmmm…that’s a good place for them,” I respond.

For now, I won’t begin an essay asking why standard toys include gun-toting characters for our children’s play. For now, I am focusing on the positive. And that is the fact that there was no mention of the iTunes store or any kind of upgrade requests for an entire day.

For 24 hours my son was plugged into his own imagination, no purchase necessary.

No yaps about an App from my eight year old (and gasp!) no yips from the dog next door all night!

For the first time in many nights, the neighborhood was softly quiet.

Yes, I did make a communication (refer to previous post, if you like). And yes, at least for one night, that skipping record stopped.

A dear friend used to say to me that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.

If the record player is my metaphor, then I’ll say I simply pulled the plug on both my son’s handheld gadget and the neighboring dog scenario. Things feel a little more sane, and certainly more quiet.

Even dreamtime shifted. I swam in milky mineral pools of hot spring water in the caves and crevices of some remote beach. Collected multitudes of ornate blue and white pottery shards, which lead like bread crumbs, to entire plates and vases, fully enact and washed up on the shore.

I’ll collect these lessons like treasure. Soak in the silence. Smile and drift a bit on this new current.