[He takes a breath, then begins to recite — but oddly, not the sort of description one might expect from a lost boy trying to help someone identify his parent.]

My dad is a really good shot because he's an FBI agent. When he was fourteen he outpointed a real live FBI agent because Mr. J. Edgar Hoover sent him a letter and invited him to come down for a visit. The other agent hit five and he hit six and my grandma sent Mr. Hoover a pound cake.

I want to be just like him because he was a Boy Scout and he was an Eagle Scout by the time he was fifteen and I want to be one too, and he said I could start this year because I'm eleven now but I don't think I can make Eagle as fast as him. I'm going to try really hard though.

He was the one who said my middle name should be S because of my uncle, who isn't really my uncle but he's my dad's friend. My dad has lots of friends because everybody likes him and he's good at talking to people, and that helps him with his cases too because that makes girls tell him more stuff. That's what my mom says. Mom also says I can't blow up anybody's mailbox no matter how much I like them, even though Dad did once and he didn't even get in trouble for it or anything.

And my dad said if he ever forgot me I should run away as fast as I can, because there are bad things in the world that make people forget, and do things they don't want to do.

[His shoulders slump a little.]

And I've been looking for him all day now. Sir.