Daniel and I were driving back from Rockford. It was getting late, already dark. I think we had just finished eating. The tollway is under construction east of Rockford and it’s hard to figure out how I-90 and 20 and 39 all interconnect with all the concrete barriers, traffic horses and blinking lights gumming up the lanes.
“That’s weird,” I said to myself.
“What’s weird?” asked Daniel. Normally it takes two or three tries to get Daniel’s attention in the back of the truck. Anytime I don’t need his attention, he’s right there hanging on my every word.
“The exit ramps have changed,” I explained. “It’s a little weird how they set them up.”
“How weird is it?” he asked. “Is it dress-up-like-a-chicken-and-drive-off-a-cliff weird?” I didn’t do a spit take, but I did choke a bit. Diet foam rushed up my nose. I pulled over on the shoulder to regain control.
“What?” I cried, “Where did you come up with that?”
“Dress up like a chicken and drive off a cliff?” Daniel looked a little worried. “That’s weird, isn’t it, Dad?” I nodded.
“It’s also weird you came up with that particular definition of ‘weird’,” I said. Daniel thought for a moment.
“Is it dress-up-like-a-chicken-and-drive-off-a-cliff weird?” he asked with a smile.
“Definitely,” I replied.