He’s such a boy. But he’s a storytelling boy.

“So, Mom. One day –
There was a boy. A little boy. A baby boy.
And he was scared.
Cause he heard a loud noise.
It was a robot!
Yeah, it was a robot – in the backyard!
And the little boy shooted it!
And then –
Then the robot was dead.”

“But robots don’t usually die – they’re made of metal and gears and robotic things, and they can be repaired. How come it’s dead?”

“No, but this robot DID die. He had lots of spinny gears and lots of round and round things, and they died too. They got shooted.”

“So then what happened?”

“And then –
The dead robot had to go to the time-out spot.”

“We have a dead robot in our time-out corner? Right here in the house?”

“No, Mom -” (rolling his eyes at me in total exasperation) “- it’s in the backyard time-out spot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“And then – so, the little boy –
No, the baby boy –
So –
Then – it was garbage day. So, the robot has to go in the garbage! Cause it got shooted.”

“But it’s made out of metal, isn’t it? And it’s plastics recycling day today, so couldn’t the little boy recycle the robot instead?”

“No! Because the robot’s dead! I shooted – I mean, the little baby boy shooted it! That means, after time-out the dead robot has to go to – the – doctor’s!
Yeah. And get a cast! And then it will be all fixed!”

“Yeah? Must be a pretty good doctor.”

“Yes, he is.”

“So, does the cast help the robot?”

“Yeah, it does!”

“And what happens next?”

“That’s the end.”

“Oh, well thank you for telling me such an interesting story.”

“You’re welcome, Mom.”

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