Kid A-isms
I look up as the kids are playing a wild game of imagination, when I hear Kid A exclaim, "Uh OH! That piece of paper is your daddy!" And sure enough, the daddy in the game is a crumpled up piece of paper.
At the dinner table, Kid A asks me why there is dirt in our spaghetti. "It's not dirt," I reply. "Those are spices."
"Why are ladies' sounds bumpy?" he asks.
"I'm sorry?"
"Why do ladies' voices go like this?" (Moves his finger in a snaky shape)
"When they're singing?"
"Yeah."
"That, my son, is called vibratto."
He thinks for a minute. Then he looks at his food again. "Spices sure look just like dirt," he says. "And why does dust come out of sand?" Needless to say, I'm stumped. I just look at him and smile, and he goes off into space in something that I call the Kid A zone, which is second only to the Chinua zone.
At the dinner table, Kid A asks me why there is dirt in our spaghetti. "It's not dirt," I reply. "Those are spices."
"Why are ladies' sounds bumpy?" he asks.
"I'm sorry?"
"Why do ladies' voices go like this?" (Moves his finger in a snaky shape)
"When they're singing?"
"Yeah."
"That, my son, is called vibratto."
He thinks for a minute. Then he looks at his food again. "Spices sure look just like dirt," he says. "And why does dust come out of sand?" Needless to say, I'm stumped. I just look at him and smile, and he goes off into space in something that I call the Kid A zone, which is second only to the Chinua zone.