Steven and I went for a walk yesterday afternoon, where we happened upon a swarm of ants. There were literally thousands of them in roughly a 10-inch diameter climbing all over each other. Of course Steven was fascinated, and we had to stop and study them for a few minutes. When I said, "There must be a million ants in there!" he promptly corrected me in saying, "No, mommy, there are FORTY-TWO ants there." Oh. Ok.
When he got on the scale later, which he often does just to see the dial spin, he shouted excitedly "FORTY-TWO POUNDS!" which was actually fairly accurate, but he couldn't have known that based on looking at the number 40 followed by two dashes. Or maybe he did.
Every day, Steven asks me where we are going "after nap-time," which means tomorrow, and I told him he was going to daycare and I'm going to work. He assured me that, no, he was not going to daycare for another 42 days. Of course he was holding up three fingers as he said this.
After the sun set, he asked if he could watch A Bug's Life, inspiried I'm sure by the "mound of ants" discovery earlier that day. I told him
it was too late to start a movie, and he looked at a non-existent watch
on his wrist and exclaimed, "No mommy, it's 42 'til Bug's Life, we have
time!"
As we were reading a book before bed, he pretended there were buttons on the page, like the kind you press on some books that have sound effects. He happily stated there were 42 pretend-buttons on that particular book.
I have NO IDEA what the deal was with 42 yesterday, but it was starting to creep me out. If something really weird happens revolving around the number 42 within the next few days, we're hitting the talk show circuit.
