Last year was the year of kite. This year has been the year of the paper airplane. They litter the stairs, the chairs and the corners of most rooms in our house. Some of their trajectories are short, aborted spurts, others chart across time and space into legend and a heap of dirty socks. There is a formula for a good paper airplane. I don't know it. My son doesn't know it either, but he knows it when he sees it. We've all joined in. We all have different versions of airplanes.