Back around Christmas time, the boys spent a lot of time plotting the construction, design, and merits of “bone rocket ships.” Back then James says to me, “You need to write a blog about bone rocket ships! It’s so funny, I don’t want to forget it.”
Unfortunately, I had nothin’… Bone rocket ships? I think they were inspired by our then acute obsession with dragons and vikings and flying. And now here it is, captured for posterity in a questionable attempt to bridge the 6-month evolution of our household’s dialectal comings and goings.
Most recently, I’ve noticed Nate is a liberal fan of the word destroy. Meanwhile Jake is more about what is invincible and post to. We spend a lot of time discussing the strongest materials in the world. We’ve had trouble finding items that can survive hot lava. Though the philosophical debate rages on regarding the strengths and weaknesses of a hot lava sword and whether it’s post to turn into stone. This week he’s convinced acid may be superior to hot lava. How can we ever truly know?
Historically, our discussions have centered primarily around jet packs, jet shoes, boosters and mega-mega blasters. I only vaguely claim to know what most of these are. Jake’s been talking about many of them since he was two. In kindergarten, he started telling me about his “blay-blays.” These are all one-of-a-kind Lego tops that he builds and then spins. We admire their merits based on three primary criteria: 1) Ease of spinning (some require formal training), 2) Spinning beauty and/or pattern and 3) Ability to win battles against other spinning lego contraptions. When I asked Jake to write down what exactly he was saying, it appears they’re actually “blade-bladz.” The ‘z’ was backward, probably as it givz it more street cred.
Meanwhile, Nate is especially keen on infinity. I feel like I still mentally struggle with the concept of infinity. I mean, of course I understand it, but I still find the idea of a string of numbers that never ends to be… well, a bit unnerving. Not Nate. He understands infinity at his very four-year-old core. Yesterday it was so hot. Nate tells me, “I think it’s 90 today, or infinity.”
“Really? Those are the two choices? Which do you think it actually is?”
“90.”
He’s so confident about his grasp on infinity that now he’s just casually joking about it…
The other night we’re in the bottom bunk, where most philosophical conversations and discussions of the universe, the origins of life, and other scientific and supernatural discourse takes place… naturally, and Nate tells me:
“Lucas from my old school says goo goo dots is bigger than infinity.” Lucas has been Nate’s best friend at preschool for the last three years.
“Goo goo dots?”
“Yes. But I told him infinity is bigger. I know infinity is definitely bigger than goo goo dots. The numbers go on forever and ever.”
If I was feeling uneasy about infinity, goo goo dots have just pushed me over the edge.