I've determined that Sam - and likely all other children his age - are insane people trapped in tiny bodies. It's delightful and frightening to watch!
His moods are labile. His ramblings often don't make sense as he drifts from one subject to another; asks a question then moves on before I can answer; strings together thoughts he's composed (now, earlier in the day, last week) and expects me to know what he is talking about.
He laughs hysterically and when we ask him what is funny, he says "Nothing. I was just talking to myself".
If something happened in the past, it was "last morning", and every so often something is going to happen in "half an hour" (because he has such an acute understanding of the passage of time).
He tries to understand our behaviour by practicing it on the cat. He gave Sabbath a time out on the balcony because "I'm not happy with you", then let him in and hugged him a minute later (imitating the discipline followed by love that we show him when he has done something bad - usually hitting the cat!).
He animorphizes things. Like his toys. "Bunny needs a kiss".
"Why is that car sad?"
Um . . .
Then he gives the car a hug and says that he made it feel better.
Sam hugging a car
There is actually a worm there - he's not seeing things.
His naievity and genuine attempt to make sense of the world around him is touching to witness.
His short-ass attention span and inability to multitask is annoying. Hey, this is starting to sound like my husband! And, I wager, many other men out there. In fact, I can say that with confidence because David told me so. He encouraged me to write this post. Tell every woman you know! he said. Men are toddlers. Our interests change over time, but we are otherwise essentially the same. You have to spell things out for us and use short authoritative commands.
So there you go, ladies. From the horse's mouth. Men are just large two year olds. And since two year olds are tiny insane people . . .