Some parenting anecdotes today.
My son took a piece of bacon to school this week, and he couldn’t have been more proud of himself. He stole it off the counter as we were on the way out of the house, and even though it broke into three pieces by the time we made it to school, he held onto those pieces for dear life. Upon arriving at school and entering the paddock where they store the children prior to indoctrination studies, Matador found himself surrounded by curious faces. I did not stay to see whether he shared the bacon with others. I was just happy he was happy.
I am my son’s own personal Kindle Vella, and every time I put him to bed, I have to tell another chapter in an ongoing story about Floop (an anthropomorphic car) and Agent Speckle (who I believe is a frog). Last night’s chapter had our protagonists journeying to another star system that also contained twelve planets. In a brilliant stroke of humor, I had Floop name the planets after the days of the week (which requires that he repeat some names). While Matador found this hilarious, it was also unacceptable. So Floop decided to rename the planets but couldn’t think of a group of twelve anything (i.e., I couldn’t think of any). As the characters mulled it over, Matador exclaimed, we can name them after the months of the year.
That boy’s a damn genius.
The Floop Chronicles have a new character every chapter, so the other night I was trying to introduce one. Carrot? Rejected. Jeremiah Finklestein? Nope. After five or six options, I told Matador I was out of ideas. He then said, “How about lemon?” When I stared back at him blankly, he doubled down with, “Limón,” like I hadn’t understood him. One the one hand, I’m disappointed my son thinks I don’t know what a lemon is, but I guess I’m happy he thinks I can speak Spanish.
In the scary math tricks department, we ran into a situation where Floop needed to count on his toes, but as Matador pointed out, cars don’t have toes. I told Matador that Floop had ten severed feet in his trunk with five toes on each foot. So how many toes did he have? Without hesitation, he said fifty! While I paused to let pride wash over me, he added, if Floop had twenty feet he would have 100 toes!
The Stanley Parable is not meant for children, which I discovered this week when Matador went from this is a fun game to crying uncontrollably in the space of five minutes. To be fair, the narrator gets a bit intense if you take Stanley in the basement garage and everything starts repeating. We’re really only playing so he learns how to use the mouse. I’m still driving with WASD, but he’s handling the camera. He’s getting a lot better at it.
I really do enjoy hanging out with this kid. He reminds me of a much smarter version of myself when I was five years old. According to the only home video we have from 1986, I was quite the annoying look-at-me six-year-old by then. Luckily, Matador would rather you leave him alone because he’s busy or, my favorite thing he says, my schedule’s full right now.