
He wanted to stand on the rock wall near the mailbox yesterday. Hugged the tree there, of course ("Hi, how are ya?"), and just stood there looking around.
"Alex, do you want to go the park?"
"No."
"Do you want to go in the car to the store with Mommy?"
"No."
"How about the playground?"
"No."
"What do you want to do?"
He pointed to the street. "Watch cars." Two words he'd never used together before (actually... he's never said the word "watch.")
There's a few lines in Patrick Suskind's book Perfume (the movie now out on DVD) that struck me as a good way of describing what seems to be going on in Alex's head when these words suddenly come out of his mouth.
"One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun, he first uttered the word 'wood.' He had seen wood a hundred times before, he had heard the word a hundred times before. He understood it, too, for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name."
Sorry, Boo Sweetie. In this house, spoken language is not optional.