For the first time in a while, I watch an NBA game. I like most of it, especially when the scores are close, and it's not clear who'll come out on top. Some of the players act like children though; they could still be adolescent boys. They're also living the life that many adolescent boys fantasize about. In a weird way, it's not an adult life.
When he asks me to play Legos with him, he's less interested in playing than in showing me what he's built in minute detail, like an architect or engineer explaining his latest work.
He hangs out in the background, waiting for us to entertain him. He needs some crumbs of attention and entertainment; maybe we'll show him a funny Youtube video.
In some ways he eats like a grownup. But then, most grownups don't wind up with pieces of avocado on their butt when they're done.
He pushes the plastic car around on the board game of Life, without understanding the milestones.
Every time we drive along this route, we get into the exact same argument. It's like the road has a hold on our minds.
They giggle at the British accents of cartoon nannies and hounds.