Eleven year old and I were on our way to the town compost heap to unload some brush and lawn clippings this afternoon. Stopped off at the library first, where I left my wallet on a table and we had to go back.
Kid Mannion: How did you forget your wallet?
Old Father Mannion: I don't know. Guess I'm getting old and senile.
Kid Mannion: What's that?
Old Father Mannion: Senile?
Kid Mannion: I don't know what that means.
Old Father Mannion: Means my brain isn't working the way it used to. I'm getting forgetful and silly.
Kid Mannion: Oh. (Thoughtful pause.) My brain isn't working the way it used to either.
Old Father Mannion: It's not?
Kid Mannion: Nope. My thinking is different. It's getting more complicated.
Old Father Mannion: Guess we're going in different directions.
Trip to the compost heap complete, Old Father Mannion makes a suggestion.
Old Father Mannion: You want to go home and have a popsicle?
Kid Mannion: You have another idea?
Old Father Mannion: Stop at the ice cream store for sundaes?
Kid Mannion: Old man, I like the way you think.