"Oh," he says. "The ones from the car show."
Fuddled, muddled, and suddenly astounded. "You're right, the band from the car show we went to with Grampa Doug."
A YEAR AGO, a (very good) Beatles tribute band played at the annual car show where my dad lives. A YEAR AGO. @ was two and a half then and the band probably played for two hours max during a long, hot, chaotic day filled with cars, trailers, engines, people, dogs, music, hot dogs, playgrounds, motorcycles, and such.
So, of course, we listened to the Beatles this morning.
At the moment, he's measuring the porch. I bought him his very own tape measure this afternoon. I measured the porch to build a deck a couple of weeks ago and ever since, tape measures are suddenly something more than the ever-present boxes on his daddy's hip pocket.
The other day X was here and @ said he wanted to be a carpenter. There was an immediate chorus of, "No way, you're going to college" in perfect unison. (X is a carpenter and we're definitely on the same page in terms of parenting, despite the end of the marriage.)
Earlier today, @ was explaining very carefully how he was rebuilding the dog house by removing all of the old wood, replacing it with new wood, and nailing everything in. The dog house is molded plastic, but... he was very detailed and careful in the placement of nails. He'd hold one, tap it twice with the hammer, then move it over and tap it again. He likes watch the progress on Jeff's house down the street, then test it out what he's seen on the dog house here.
A year ago. The Beatles. Dang. Maybe he knows where my mom put her keys in 1982.