conversations with a 3 year-old

When I lived in New York City and would see crazy--and I mean crazy in an endearing, not threatening, way--people on the subway or walking down the street cursing to themselves, I would sometimes (sometimes) think that it might be nice to be crazy. I'm not talking crazy like storming into your former place of employment with a loaded firearm or thinking little people live inside your head, but crazy like talking nonsense. You could say the most outlandish things and no one would bat an eyelash--at least not in New York City.

Having a conversation tonight with Catcher reminded me of that sentiment. He's at the age--turning three in July--where he knows enough to speak in complete sentences and reference things from earlier conversations and memories, but sometimes you just have to wonder what is going on in that little head. Here's a snippet of our conversation:

C: Daddy's not at the hairport.

M: Yes he is.

C: No. Daddy told me he's going to Or-in-na.

M: California?

C: Yeah.

M: Well. He has to go to the airport to get on airplane to take him to California.

C: Coco and Moppy went to the hairport and Coco and Moppy got on a hairplane.

M: Oh yeah? Where are they going?

C: Mexico.

M: Cool. What are they going to do in Mexico?

C: Wear bathing suits.

M: Good idea. What do their bathing suits look like?

C: They have sharks!

M: Sharks?! Wow. Anything else?

C: Sharks. And robots. And cheese!

M: Cheese. That must be something else.

It should be noted that following this conversation, Catcher proceeded to the bathroom where I heard him telling himself there would be no gummies because his Pull-up was wet. He then began singing "Wheels on the Bus" and came back out to the living room with his pants down around his ankles to ask me, "Hey. Hey. Hey, Mommy. What comes after the horn?" Now tell me that's not crazy.