My 6-year-old son, Luke, sat naked on the couch with his legs crossed. Much like one would casually cross their legs while riding the train or waiting in a doctor’s office. The nebulizer mask was secured to his face by an orange band, colorless vapor rushing into his nose and mouth.
In the few minutes it takes to do one nebulizer treatment we covered many topics of conversation; mammals, amphibians, types of birds, creatures of the ocean, the French, and Canada.
“Let’s talk about the French,” Luke said. He giggled behind his mask.
“Who do you know who’s french?” I asked.
“Lots of people.”
“Buzz Lightyear!” he exclaimed.
“Buzz Lightyear’s french?”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, sometimes he is,” he said, gesturing with his palm turned upward.
“Maybe he’s Canadian.”
“They’re our neighbors to the north. And they said eh.”
“Yeah, like…Do you like cheese, eh?”
“Why do they talk like that?”
“No one knows.”