"So far I can only use the Force on dust."
Today he was desperately in need of some directed activity, passing the time by lifting up one side of the big armchair and even the sofa a few inches off the floor, until we were tired of telling him to put them down before they fell on him or his sister.
"Come on," I said. "We're going to the pool. You need to use some of that energy."
"I don't want to go to the pool. I don't have energy, I'm just getting strong by lifting things."
"What? We're members now, we have to go all summer. Why don't you want to go?"
"I just don't."
"Well you can't stay here and lift things all afternoon. [Lightbulb moment...] Did you know that swimming makes you strong? It's very good for your muscles."
Then I Googled some pictures of Johnny Weismuller and Michael Phelps. He was sold.
"Okay, let's go to the pool."
Lately he has taken to drawing in bed before he falls asleep. This leaves him with ink stains in odd places, but is otherwise very nice and means our stock of love notes has been replenished. I just got this one:
[Dear Mom, thank you for getting me the markers.]
Last night B went upstairs and pulled this from under a sleeping boy.
I asked him what the two lower ovals were.
"That's a butt."
"Yes, you know, the way--"
"Yes, yes, that's fine. I've seen plenty. Lovely."