Room For Improvement

(I’m at my desk working when my son comes running out to get my attention.)

Son: “Mom, look what I made!”

(He’s proudly brandishing a very convincing rifle he built out of big plastic blocks, only it has the roof piece where the muzzle would be, making it look like one of those old time hillbilly powder guns.)

Me: “That’s very nice, honey… what is it?”

Son: “A vaccuminator!”

Me: “A… vaccuminator?”

Son: “Yup!”

Me: “Okay. What does it do?”

Son: “It’s a rifle and a battering ram and a vacuum!”

(He is practically beaming as he describes this thing to me, and I’m trying not to look overly confused or laugh.)

Me: “Okay, but what does it do?”

Son: “Well, it’s a battering ram to break down a wall, so I can shoot the zombies on the other side, then I can vacuum them all up.”

(It takes me a moment to process the very serious description, and without thinking ‘mommy-mode’ kicks in.)

Me: “Very cool. Maybe you should go vacuum up your room.”

(Without missing a beat, as he turns to go back to inventing in his room.)

Son: “Oh, it doesn’t do rooms.”

(I still don’t know if I should be proud about his quick response, or worried that he might have planned that far ahead in the conversation.)