Hypotheticals

Cael speaks an entirely different language.  I mean that metaphorically, of course, because while he tends to chatter endlessly about drumkins and other indecipherable things, he does seem to be gaining a reasonable grasp on the English language.

What I mean in this case is that, while I often speak the language of sarcasm and Joel often speaks the language of bathroom humor, Cael has begun expressing himself through the use of hypothetical questions.  And just like my husband would say, the more graphic, the better. 

"Mommy, what would happen if a mountain lion came down from a mountaintop and jumped on the top of a car that was driving to a big city.  And in the big city, the mountain lion found a bunch of animals at a zoo and they danced around and broke out of the zoo and got on a train.  And what if the train was moving really fast so they couldn't jump off and the train finally stopped in our town and the animals fell off of the train in a box?  It would have to be a really big box to fit all of those animals.  Or maybe each animal was in a different box.  So what would happen if they got loose in the town and started eating people and the police tried to stop them and then they got eated too?  And then there was nobody left and the animals came after me and I tried to fight them with my toy bat but I wasn't fast enough and the bear came after me?  Did you know there was a bear?  He came from the zoo in the big city.  He wasn't with the mountain lion at first but he was one that got on the train, that train that came to our town.  And then what if that big, big bear came after me and wanted to eat me in my socks?  Would you still like bears?"

"No."

"No?  Oh, okay."

I learned a long time ago that I can't tell him these imagined scenarios would never happen because in his fast-paced psyche, they happen daily.  Plus, I simply don't have the time.  There's laundry to do, and bears to shoo away.

"Mommy, do you think there will be a big, huge bomb that will blow up our car?  Like, one day we'll get in the car to go to Walmart because you want to get pop and milk and bananas and maybe some bread even though I like HyVee better and they have those carts with the steering wheel that look like cars.  I like the blue one, but Graham likes the orange one.  But I'm bigger and smarter so I always win.  So what if we got in the car to go to Walmart and we went  down the road a little bit and all of a sudden there was a huge bomb in the car right on the seat and it blowed up and we went flying through the air and we landed on the roof at our house and maybe Graham was ouchy and maybe my hair was on fire?  And what if Oscar was on the roof too and there was dog poop everywhere?  What would you do?"

"That would never happen, Cael." 

"But what if it did?"

"It won't."

"But what if it did?"

"No one is going to put a bomb in our car.  We're good guys.  Oscar too."

"But Graham isn't!"

"Yes he is.  And even if there was a bomb, we wouldn't land on the roof."

"Why not?"

"Because bombs don't work that way."

"How do they work?"

"I don't really know, but not like that."

"So you don't know.  I don't want to go to the store because there is a bomb in the van!"

"There's no bomb.  That won't ever happen.  Never.  You understand?"

...

"But what if it did?"

After a couple of weeks of this, his strangeness lost some of its allure and went from quirky to just plain irritating.  I have four children to watch during the day, meals to cook and escaped zoo animals to guard against, and I simply don't have time to indulge him in his twisted, hypothetical fantasies. 
 
I do, however, have time for my own.

"Mommy, what are we having for lunch?"

"I'm not sure yet.  What would you think if I cooked a bird for us to eat today?  But I don't think I could catch one here on the grass or in a tree, so what if I got a huge balloon, kind of like a hot-air balloon, and flew it way up high into the sky?  And then, using a butterfly net woven from the many hairs which have left my head as a result of your fiendish behavior, I trapped a bald eagle or maybe a pterodactyl and brought it back down here to our house.  I think I would put it in a room with Oscar and hope that the dog could take all of the feathers off-- wait a minute, Oscar isn't strong enough or confident enough to take on a large bird.  I'd put the bird in the bathroom with the cat, so that if it got messy I could put the bird and the cat in the bathtub and clean them off while they played with your Lightning McQueen bathtub toys and arranged the bubbles so they both looked like Santa.  And then, I'd cook the bird (and maybe the cat) in the toaster with some chocolate sauce and peanut butter because everything tastes good with chocolate and peanut butter.  So if I did that, would you want applesauce or yogurt for dessert?" 

"That would never happen, Mommy."

"But what if it did?"

"I'd have yogurt."

Me too.