Those who knew said we should never have a baby. It would turn out like that movie Firestarter. Chairs lifting off the ground, which is what Katie does when she’s upset, doors slamming without hands, which is what I sometimes do to make a point.
But you can’t stop biological imperative. Henry was born last year. By all accounts, a healthy, normal kid.
We do try not to let strangers hold him too long. If they picked up on his thought transmissions—taking over the world, turning our atmosphere to hydrogen—god knows what would happen.
Otherwise, though—our boy.