The Cloud Machine

When my boys were little, the older one (by two years) would often find little ways to mess with the younger one, mostly in an innocent sort of way.

Often this came by way of little gems like telling him we found him on the doorstep one day or that he had met the real Santa Claus. That sort of thing, I think, is pretty common among siblings.

My favorite one, though, was the Cloud Machine. It’s my favorite because I actually pulled that one on my older son and he decided it was good enough to pass on to his brother. For those not in the know, the Cloud Machine is that refinery over in Memphis on the I-55 loop that very much looks like it makes clouds. It’s a pretty convincing story for a small child.

The best part of it, however, is just how long my younger son bought into the idea… like way longer than he should have… longer than he bought into the idea of the aforementioned Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. Like I said it’s a pretty convincing story.

And that’s the thing… he heard a bit of information from a seemingly reliable source and simply accepted it. It makes sense, right? Except, of course, it’s not true. He might have really, deep down, wanted to believe it was true, because how cool would it be to live near the factory where all the world’s clouds were made?

So, eventually, he did what an intelligent person would do and he reasoned it out. I think fourth-grade science finally did the trick. There are a lot of people out there, much older, that still believe some of the Cloud Machine stories. It’s pretty sad. My son, at least, had an excuse.

He was, like, seven… what’s their excuse?