It must have something to do with boys reaching 10 years of age. The older one did it, and now the younger one is following suit. Waking hours are completely taken up by an incessant monologue on the nuances of the fantasy environment du jour. It might be a video game or a toy series (e.g. Bionicles, Zoids), but be assured that the lecture will go on and on about minutiae that no one not intimately engaged in the same play could comprehend. I try. I feel bad. I hate to admit I’m not listening to him, but the skills I honed nodding and appearing interested in what his mother was saying are coming in handy.
Oh, and the explosions. All of these realms of play involve explosions, battles, weapons, and other things which apparently require sound effects. So this dreadful droning is punctuated by spittle-laden noises, which only serves to increase the joy. My only solace is that this is driving my older son out of his mind. I remind him that he did the same thing, but he denies it.
And Mom & Dad, given that I was once 10, an apology is long overdue. I’m sorry.