“Not you, Grandma,” said the Boy Wonder, waving me away. “I’m talkin’ to Granddad.”
“Boy stuff,” said R, lifting an eyebrow at me in vague apology.
I didn’t mind in the slightest, because I got a nice set of photos of them interacting, and I didn’t even enquire afterwards what the talkin’ was about, because I haven’t got where I am today by worrying my girly little head about boy stuff. But after viewing the images just now, R told me that they were discussing whether this motorbike-shaped springy thingy was more like a tricycle or more like a mower, and why it was reminding the Boy of a mower even though it clearly wasn’t one.
It seems that we have yet another philosopher in the family.
Sigh…
