“Are we just puppets?” Primo asks at Swartz Bay. Not quite 7 am, we're headed to the Rockies, and he’s asking the deep questions. “Did someone make us?”
“What do you think?” I ask. He says he feels like a puppet.
“How about the hand?” I ask. “Are you the hand too?” He considers this.
Not every utterance is profound. “Die-a-rhee-a,” Secundo chants, as I wash my hands after a particular messy round. “Die-a-ree-ah!” Primo chimes in. And then the chorus: “Poo poo bum bum, die-a-ree-ah!” I roll my eyes.
Near Golden we encounter a colossal construction site beneath an enormous bridge. “Diggah, mama?” Secundo asks before he falls asleep for his midday nap.
“Poor guy,” Primo says, as his brother snoozes through 20 km of construction.
“Dumpa?” is the first word out of Secundo’s mouth when he wakes up. “Menna?” And his dreams come true as we observe dump trucks and concrete mixers in action.
Just for something to do near Revelstoke I explain conception to Primo. “There’s one egg,” I say, “and a million sperm. And the sperm race each other to see which one can get to the egg first. And when it touches the egg, the baby starts.”
Primo absorbs that info. He’s quiet for a while, and then he says trimuphantly, “So I won!”
I laugh at his perceptive assessment.
“And you won,” he adds. “And Secundo, and Andy, and Steph.”
With that perspective, we’re all winners, simply because we are. Something my mom’s been telling me for years.
“What do you think?” I ask. He says he feels like a puppet.
“How about the hand?” I ask. “Are you the hand too?” He considers this.
Not every utterance is profound. “Die-a-rhee-a,” Secundo chants, as I wash my hands after a particular messy round. “Die-a-ree-ah!” Primo chimes in. And then the chorus: “Poo poo bum bum, die-a-ree-ah!” I roll my eyes.
Near Golden we encounter a colossal construction site beneath an enormous bridge. “Diggah, mama?” Secundo asks before he falls asleep for his midday nap.
“Poor guy,” Primo says, as his brother snoozes through 20 km of construction.
“Dumpa?” is the first word out of Secundo’s mouth when he wakes up. “Menna?” And his dreams come true as we observe dump trucks and concrete mixers in action.
Just for something to do near Revelstoke I explain conception to Primo. “There’s one egg,” I say, “and a million sperm. And the sperm race each other to see which one can get to the egg first. And when it touches the egg, the baby starts.”
Primo absorbs that info. He’s quiet for a while, and then he says trimuphantly, “So I won!”
I laugh at his perceptive assessment.
“And you won,” he adds. “And Secundo, and Andy, and Steph.”
With that perspective, we’re all winners, simply because we are. Something my mom’s been telling me for years.
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