At naptime on Sunday, I heard very loud noises emanating from Ethan’s room.

Later, after he had been downstairs for awhile, I asked him what he was doing that was making such a racket.

“I don’t know!” He said gaily. This is his goto statement for everything.

“Instead of saying, ‘I don’t know,’ why don’t you stop and think it over, try to remember what I’m asking you, and THEN tell me.”

“Ok,” he said, “I’m going to think about it up to 10.”

“You’re going to think about it up to 10?”

“Yeah.”

I wait. I watch him. He’s squirming around in his seat, playing with the toy in his hands. A minute goes by.

“Are you ready to tell me?”

“NO! I’M NOT UP TO TEN YET!”

“Oh, ok.”

We sit there, one of us squirmy, the other of us, sitting amused and patient.

“Have you remembered up to 10 yet?”

“YES! I GOT UP TO 10!”

“So what were you doing that made so much noise?”

“I was hitting the bottom of my train table.”

“Hitting it? Were you being a builder man?”

“No.”

“A worker man?”

“No, I was making the stuff on the table fall down.”

“What stuff?”

“Blocks.”

“Aha.. so.. you were building tall towers and buildings with your blocks, and then you were hitting the table so they’d tumble down?”

“YUP!”

My son, destruction-man.