Under a cloudless azure sky, the youngest, Luca, and I were enjoying play time at a local park.
After exhausting our usual concert of pushing-on-the-swing singing tunes (Old MacDonald Had a Farm, Wheels on the Bus, etc.), I transitioned to a different line of conversational engagement.
ME: Hey Luca. What does a cow eat?
ME: Good. How about horses?
I feel the breeze from the swing as Luca tries to touch the treetops with his feet. The chain rubbing the set's hinge creates a staccato rhythm.
ME: What does a rooster eat, Luca?
ME: Excellent. What does a dog eat?
Luca stares, obviously lost in thought, but says nothing. I give him a moment and follow-up.
ME: So what does a dog eat? What does your dog Chuckie like? What does that yellow-buffalo-of-a-dog eat?
Luca finally breaks the silence.
LUCA: Ice cream.
LUCA: Ice cream. Ice cream cones.
ME: Ahh yes. Your dog Chuck aka "yellow buffalo" sure is good at stealing little kid ice cream cones. You got me there man.
You never know what children think until you ask.
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