A New Definition of Weird


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.

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