Most fourth graders like to draw, play ball, and read funny books. Charlie Sievers does all of that — and then some. In his world, Nerf wars turn into World War Seven, Captain Underpants becomes a time traveler, and Mario Odyssey isn’t just a video game but an alternate universe he can step into. “My brain has this extra little emotion I call jumping worlds,” he explains. “It’s where my soul jumps into different universes. Like, I drew a comic where Harry Potter was like, ‘Let’s go capture some interdimensional beings,’ and suddenly I was there with him”.

Charlie prefers that you call him Charlie, not Charles, though he’s quick to note that Charles is his birth name. He lives in Macomb with his parents and two older sisters, Nora and Gwen. At home, he spends hours sketching realistic drawings and quick doodles, playing baseball for fun, and setting up epic Nerf gun wars with his siblings. “We’ll set up these giant barriers with cushions and just run around the house shooting each other with helmets on,” he says, grinning. “It’s a lot of fun because I can use my imagination to think that I’m in World War Seven or something like that”.

School excites him, too. He loves math, predicting what will happen next in Captain Underpants, and studying world maps. His teacher this year is Ms. Jackson, and he’s proud to be on the Blackbirds squad, especially since they recently broke a five-year drought to win their school’s squad competition. His sisters still tease him about their own squads — Gwen brags about her Falcons, while Nora takes a quieter pride in the Mustangs — but Charlie holds his own. “Fun fact,” he says, “the Blackbirds just won after five years. We dominated”.

Books play a big role in Charlie’s life. He laughs over the humor of Dave Pilkey’s Captain Underpants series but also dives into more serious reads like Among the Hidden. “I don’t love to read, but I don’t hate it either,” he admits. “If it’s a book that works up my imagination, I want to read it. If it’s a book where Abethabella Bethkiel gave up her five-million-dollar crown to a random hobo in the streets, then I want to know what happens next”.

What sets Charlie apart is the way he processes the world. He doesn’t just play baseball, he plays it only for joy. “I don’t like to play games seriously,” he says. “If somebody called and said, ‘Hey, do you want to be on the Bears?’ I’d say, I don’t think so. I like to play for fun, not for trophies.” That perspective gives him a lightness rare for his age.

He also thinks deeply about kindness. When adults remark on his imagination or skill, he doesn’t let it go to his head. Instead, he asks himself how he might return the gesture. “I think, wow, they’re really kind to me. How should I be kind back? Maybe make them cookies and take them across the street. Not for the cookies or the Dr. Pepper they might give me — just to talk to them”.

Charlie acknowledges that he’s good at math, loves design, and has what he calls an “engineering mindset.” That might point toward his future, though he isn’t rushing to decide. For now, he’s content to jump worlds, explore ideas, and imagine possibilities. “I just like talking,” he says simply. “I like being me.”

It’s hard to imagine him as anyone else. “Sometimes I think maybe before I was born, I was a 78-year-old man who didn’t like math or drawing,” he muses. “But I just can’t picture myself as that person.” Neither can anyone else.

Because in Macomb, the story of Charlie Sievers is one of imagination without boundaries, of a boy whose worlds are many — and whose possibilities are endless.