Last week, AJ and I were going to a field trip at a farm that makes maple sugar. We were running late (which I hate more than anything). We’d had a rough morning. AJ wouldn’t get in the shower. Once he was in the shower, he wouldn’t wash his hair. Once he washed his hair, he wouldn’t get out. And on and on until we got in the car. Not a great start.
Once we got in the car, the “conversation” started.
AJ: But, Mama, what will the farm be like? Will it be outside or inside? Will it be cold? Will there be lots of people there? Will the sugar be vegetarian? Will there be animals? I saw a farm with animals once. On my gameboy, there’s a game with animals, but I don’t like it. I like robots. Did you know that there’s a robot that was programmed to show emotion?
I don’t actually need to answer any of these questions. He’s just talking to talk. I can tell because he started the sentence with “but”. That usually indicates that an off-topic monologue is about to start. I have to listen, though, because you never know.
He goes on with his “conversation” for almost the 45 minute drive. The content varies very little. He mostly repeats the sentences in different order or slightly rephrased. It’s just AJ, and I’m mostly used to it.
Then, a question that he wants answered comes out. I know it needs an answer, because it’s a question he always asks on the way to someplace new.
AJ: “Mama, what if it’s too loud, or if there are too many kids? What is going to happen, EXACTLY?”
Mama: “I don’t know, baby, but I know it will be fine.”
AJ: “Are you sure?”
Mama: “I’m sure.”
AJ: “Are you REALLY sure?”
Mama: “100% sure.”
Mama: “Because it always is. And, even if it’s not, we always handle it together.”
AJ: “Oh, yeah, that’s right.”
And, so it goes…