Last night when we were sitting in the Breakfast Nook, Son asked me some questions. After I responded, he would make a little tally mark on his paper, rest his hand on his chin, look at me and nod. Then he would ask another question, nodding as I answered. I am only sorry I cannot replicate his hand gestures here for your amusement. Just imagine some of the hand gestures you've seen me make when I talk.
What is necessary about dogs?
What is necessary about cats?
Why do cats poop in the house?
Where do dogs go when they die?
What do you think, does money survive or not survive?
Tell me how you feel about money.
What is necessary about this point to relation of form? (Here he gestures, circling his hands in front of his body, away from each other and then bringing them back together.) I think he says something about "complexity." When I ask him what he means he smiles and then laughs.
What is necessary about cats and dogs? Together. Like 5 and 6 are together. (Here he writes a five next to a six and draws a line to connect them.)
When he asks me "Where do cats go when they die?" I answer that perhaps it's like a big living room, with a rug and a fire and lots of toys.
"And they can poop in the house?" he asks.
He knows what's really important.