The following conversation took place in our front yard, while The Hudson Storm played Star Wars with a neighbor-kid....
Thunder (swinging his light saber violently towards the neighbor-kid): TAKE THAT!
Neighbor-kid: Now, cut off my hand! Yeah, like that!
Hail (interrupting): Can I pway?? I wanna pway Staw Waws wif you, pweeeaassee!
Neighbor-kid: SURE! (Immediately starts swinging his light saber at Hail, while making the appropriate "zzziinngg-zzziinngg noises)
Thunder: Wait, wait! You have to be careful with Hail, okay?? Don't hit him too hard. He's only two....
Me (beaming with pride from my lawn chair, daydreaming): Sweet, sweet Thunder! He's just the best big brother ever. Such a doll. What would we do without...
Thunder (interrupting the boastful conversation I'm having with myself in my head): But he'll be three in a couple of weeks and then we can hit him as hard as we want!!!
Neighbor-kid: Oh, that's AWESOME.
Hail (nodding, holding up two fingers): Yep, I'm two. But, I'm gonna be five wast night. You can come to my birf-day pardee!
*All instances of time, past/present/future is "wast night" to Hail. And he's always "fixin' to be five, not fwee."
I'm telling you, these boys can't get right. Not a one of 'em.