Lately Colsen has been making up all kinds of languages and wanting to teach me about other countries. Usually it is a place like Afghanistan where there is a war going on. This morning we had this conversation:
C: Use your walkie-talkie and tell me what you need. No, that's not how you do it.
Me: Oh -- my mistake.
C: No -- you say, 'I'm sorry,' not 'My mistake,' because in the language there, we have no C or K sound.
Me: Interesting. So what do they call YOU? 'Olsen?'
C: No, they just call me 'Sir.'
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And since he's been so busy making up languages, I guess it was just a matter of time until he developed this one....
He announced during lunch today that this is how you count in the Language of Butts: "Ones, toots, threeze, farts..." This amused his brothers to no end, which I'm sure surprises no one.
**
He was scheming the other night about how to break through the walls of a jail. His solution was: "Call a paleontologist!"
When I asked him why in the world he would want someone who studies dinosaurs, he responded, "They have tools that can dig through rocks and stuff, and rocks are much harder than wood and walls and stuff, so they can easily get through walls... right?"
Hmmmm. Unlikely heroes!
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