I almost wrecked the car… Max is sincere and concerned for an almost three year-old. Whenever I even mime being upset, he’ll come over, put his little hand on my big arm and ask, “Are you OK, Daddy?” To which I always say, “Yes, Max, I’m fine.” In this golf game we’ve been playing, there’s a grungy Goth dude (it’s a stupid golf game). The first time Max saw him, he said, “That guy doesn’t look to happy. Why is he not happy, Daddy?” I had no good answer… so I said his underwear was too tight and he needed a nap. That seemed to satisfy Max just fine.
Why is now my favorite time in Max’s life so far? He connects things now and can have a real conversation (well, real in a surreal way). Last night, we had to take my little brother to school on our way out to dinner. Steve has the flu, but had to go to class anyway. Jen asked Steve how he was doing, to which Steve replied, “Pretty poopy.” Max looked at Steve with a compassionate “I’ve been there, man” look and said in his most serious concerned voice, “Do you need a clean one?”