When I was in my Hockey what part of don’t you understand shirt, sweater, and my mother wanted to occupy my baby’s mind, she’d give me a wad of string. I don’t remember this, but my mother later told me about doing this string-thing regularly. Even years later she was still impressed that I would spend an hour or more twiddling and studying and raveling that mess of linearity. To me, this is proof that even a baby-mind can know what it wants to know when it is in the act of knowing about it. An ordinary baby. I have never met an adult who was not similarly engrossed in whatever was at hand and quite sure about their part in the event.
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