After a brief, late, bath-temperature swim in suddenly balmy Lake Champlain, Rose, Calvin, and I are slowly gathering things and drying off, as one does.
Me: Hey, look at those birds in the middle of the lake.
Calvin: Where?
Me: Way out there, see them? Flying in a long, low circle right above the surface of the water?
Calvin: Oh yeah, I see them!
Me: I wonder what could be hatching way out there that isn't hatching near the shore?
Calvin: They must have found a psychological nuclear monster.
Me: A what? They're birds, Calvin. It's probably food.
Calvin: No, a psychological nuclear monster! Getting into their brains and making them radioactive!
Me: You mean…Brainioactive?
Calvin: Yeah! I'm going to come down in the morning and take a picture of them! [He has a new birthday camera]
Rose: It's been nice knowing you.
Me: I hope you get a good picture because that's all that will be left.
Calvin: I'm not going to get into a boat! I'm going to take the picture from shore!
Rose: They're going to eat you.
Me: Mutants hate cameras.
[Later, recounting these events over dinner]
Me: …so that's why we're all done for. Mutant birds will be after us first thing in the morning.
Calvin: I think we should panic.
