When it's "just us"

Random conversation from over a year ago:

The fall weather is back and we are on soccer chauffeur duty again, which reminded me of an interesting conversation with my youngest child.  As I drove Barley to soccer practice, he was eyeing houses with pretty white picket fences.  This is not his first architectural interest.  He has a weird obsession with roofs.

Way back to when he was an infant, riding in his carseat behind us, I noticed that he was calmer when we drove through residential neighborhoods.  When the nice quaint homes gave way to big box stores, office buildings, or warehouses, he would start to fuss more and cry.  He couldn't see much from his car seat, but he could see the rooflines.

Age 4: One day driving home from daycare, he kept asking me what kind of roof we had.  It was a condo at the time, I had NO idea, not being responsible for maintaining the communal roof at that point.  It was suppertime, and the usual rush and bustle of coming home after work, getting the kids inside, coats off, dinner on, etc.  Suddenly, Barley remembered his question, ran outside, and then came in explaining, "So, THAT's what kind of roof we have!"  You would have thought he was Einstein completing his theory of relativity--he was that satisfied with himself.


Age 6: A few years later, on the school playground, he found some gritty tar paper scrap from some roof repair done at the school.  He carried that thing around for weeks, stroking the sandy surface.  For all I know, he still has it stored under his pillow.

OK, so now a fascination was houses with fences.  We don't have a fence.  Interesting.

     Why do you like the houses with fences, honey?

     They are perfect for a dog--when me and Teddy have the house to ourselves.

     The house to yourselves?  Where will Daddy and I be?

     You know...'gone.'

Great--the kid is making plans to bump us off so his brother can have a dog (his father is allergic).

Fraternal empathy: 1 Filial respect: 0