Day Three: Dynamite
“I’m putting something together,” he says.
I’m not following.
“Go wake up Aunt Amy, she is waiting for you.”
“I’m putting something together.”
He collects an electronic thing, a headset and a book. I’m thinking he will McGyver this into a small plane, a lie detector or some other odd device.
He then needs a moment to sprint around in a circle for no particular reason. LIke heat value blowing off excess pressure. Maybe I can install a pressure value on his tiny, veal neck to make this easier.
I now see him flash by outside in his blue Batman outfit. The animals in the yard scatter for their own protection.
We wake Aunt Amy up. We sneak in, this he understands, but then he starts talking at full volume.
A quick pee and he is ready for more, for anything, for everything.
He has found the small stones in the yard, the same stones that EVERY kid loves for only kid reasons.
“I wanna go to the beach,” he yells. “Sometimes I don’t know.” “Know what?” “I don’t know.”
“I going to be a fireman submarine.” “What does that mean.” “The fish can’t see us, and when there is fire underwater, I will have a giant hose.” “I’m just going to look out for the fishes.”
Makes sense to me.
“Do you think they will offer you benefits or just a fat salary.”
“I don’t know.”
He will probably refuse the pay. More of a humanitarian style endeavor.
If I listen carefully I can hear the air whining off of him at high speed. He will burn bright, then ease into a nice 5 hour nap on the ride home.
“Hey poop head.”
“Hey knuckle sneeze head.”
This is guy talk. Simple, yet direct. More complex than it seems.
“Poop sneezy head.”
“I wanna watch Toy Story.”
“I wanna watch Meet the Press, you wanna watch that?” Blank stare.
“Hi buffalo.” “Hey buffalo head.” “What are you digging for knuckleburger?” “
“Hey knuckleburger booger head.”
Again, we dive deep into the complex history of male bonding, verbal dance.
Another eight hours of this and I will have to, once again, release him into the world. I will have to verbally spare with clients, my wife, my family, but it won’t be the same. The nuances of 3.5 can’t be faked.
“It’s raining it, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring.”
Hey, let me teach you another one.
“There once was a man from Nantucket…………”