Nathan turns 8 in a few weeks.
The other day, he and Sophia spent a good 30 minutes chasing each other in the backyard. He came in the house, winded from all the fun.
"Mom," he gasped, "The closer I get to 8, the more my body's slowing down. I could run super-fast when I was 6, but now..."
"Wow," I said, biting my cheek to hold in the laugher. "That sounds serious. Would you like to see a doctor about that?"
"What are you going to do?" he said, throwing his arms in the air. "That's just life."
We called my parents to tell them of his miraculous discovery. My parents can tell, when I call, whether or not I'm trying to tell them, "This is hilarious, but don't laugh aloud or he'll quit telling us these gems". They were stellar to act appropriately shocked at the news of his discovery without laughing.
"Nathan," my dad said, "I'm over eight times your age. How do you think you'll feel when you get as old as Grandpa if you're slowing down at 8?"
"I bet I'll be slower than a banana slug!" he replied.
