The freeway obsession is in full, full swing in N/J land. Long-time readers may remember Nate's intense obsessions with, in no particular order, states, months, holidays, numbers, traffic signs, and, perhaps most adorably, the "Bell Systems" sewer caps. (Believe me, there was a period in 2005 when we could not walk past a sewer cap without plunking down and settling in for a half-hour of lovingly tracing the letters of "BELL SYSTEMS" while murmuring "Buh! Eh! Lala! Lala! Sss! Yih! Sss! Tuh! Eh! Mmmm! Sss!" Unfortunately, this period was during the summer months in Los Angeles, and exactly none of the sewer caps in our neighborhood was anywhere near the shade.) And now, at long last, Nate has found a hobby that is proving quite useful: He's gone bananas for America's freeways, and he's not afraid to let you know how to get where you're going.
In a way it seems like a natural offshoot of the traffic signs obsessions that both boys developed earlier this year (some younger brothers learn about Spiderman and legos early; others develop an affinity for identifying states by shape and obsessing over when the weekend is starting). And indeed, it started when the guys would rattle off the freeway numbers along with everything else from the highway signs we've come to know and love. But now Nate is just fascinated with studying the freeways, learning how they come together, where they go, and how one can get from, say, Spokane to Cleveland. He used his Barnes and Noble birthday money to buy himself a giant U.S. Atlas, and he has happily spent every night since perusing the freeway system with Daddy, who has quickly learned to feign rabid enthusiasm for freeways. Nate is proudly sporting a baseball shirt with a "10 Freeway" sign on it. He has a date to meet and talk freeways with old friend Joanna's dad, a real life retired highway engineer, when we pass through Sacramento en route to Lake Tahoe next month (580E to the 80E to the 267). And just the other day, he gave me directions to a coffee shop he'd been to once with Obdulia, but to which I'd never been. It's always fun when Nate has a new thing, but this one is all kinds of practical.
Jonah, who is running no shortage of enthusiasm generally, can always be counted on to pick up on Nate's passions. His mother-in-law Melissa told me that the other day, she was driving home from camp with Kate, Jonah, and sister-in-law Sam, and she was playing a game with the kids where she asks, "Ok, what number comes before 5? What is after 8?" Jonah piped up, "I got one! If you're driving on the 13, what number freeway comes next? It starts with a 2!" With a straight face, Melissa guessed, "24?" Jonah was so pleased. And, indeed, the 13 connects to the 24. Like brudder, like brudder.
Jonah has also developed a new love of his own. In the past few weeks, he's gone from being a sweet little kitty cat to a full-fledged pirate. And not just any pirate, but a particularly evil pirate. As in: Me: "Jonah, are you a good pirate or a bad pirate?" Jonah: "I'm a BAD pirate!! I HIT the good pirates with my SWORD!" And his new favorite activity is "hiding" (in plain view in the middle of our backyard) a "treasure box" (the same shoebox that we used for an actual treasure hunt when we had some friends over for a cookout last month, only now empty of the treasure), drawing a "map" (squiggly line across the page to an "X"), and then racing outside to "find" it, giggling to himself the whole time, and then praising himself roundly for his excellent pirating skills. At bed time, he can be found all snuggled up in his bunny-rabbits-driving-cars pajamas, with an eyepatch over one eye and a fierce "ARRRRRR!" ringing through the house, while his brother sits 4 feet away, completely oblivious to the danger while he rhapsodizes over the 210 miles that the 55 freeway runs through Missouri.
Never a dull moment.
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