We’re headed home on I-5 north of Seattle, and we see a used boat dealership. It’s huge. Literally acres of boats alongside the frontage road, some looking pretty good, some looking like they might have held water once, but that was maybe before the Vikings abandoned them on the shores of Leif Ericson’s land for new models.
“Boat,” the toddler observes.
He thinks about it a little more.
“Boat,” he adds.
This goes on for a while (acres and acres…). Finally we pass the lot.
“Okay,” I ask, “How many boats was that?”
The toddler thinks about it.
If he had been counting the ones that would still float, I think he might have been right.