And I Shall Call Him "Brick"

Walks have become a pretty regular thing for the boy and I. On my days off, he'll propose, generally, that we go for a walk two or three times. So, a couple of times a day, we'll go traipsing off for some good old fashioned neighborhood recon.

Usually, we're doing important things like counting ants, checking sand-pile quality, observing that, yes, there is a guy going by on a motorcycle. This data must be recorded! And, truly, there are fewer things more idyllic than walking around with Max on my shoulders while he gets pumped about parked motorcycles, our long, early evening shadows tracking across the front and back yards of South Minneapolis.

The other day, heading home, Max was up on my shoulders when he started a little list:

"I Allie. I Mommy. I Kay."

"Max, what are you doing?"

"I Miles."

"Max, are you talking about people you love?"

"Yeah." ("Yeah" has now replaced "NnnnnnnN" as an affirmative response.)

"I 'ove Mommy. I 'ove Daddy." Ls are an issue for the boy.

"I 'ove big cars. I 'ove little cars. I 'ove plants."

I couldn't help but notice his list had gone a little off what we'd call charmingly cute and veered towards crazy love affair with the whole world.

"I 'ove tree. I 'ove guy." Now I see there's a dude crossing the street up ahead on the block.

"Max, are you just talking about all the stuff you see right now?"

"Yeah."

Great. My kid is Brick Tamland