Lewis, a few months ago, was playing with some trucks in the living room. "Papa?" he said "What is your favorite truck." I was not really paying attention to him. He asked again, so to please him I blurted, "garbage truck." Those two words immediately burned into his developing brain. And now, whenever we pass a garbage truck he says "Papa! There's your favorite truck!" as if he's discovered something wonderful, just for me. Lewis' big bright eyes look at me, seeming to say "Doesn't that make you super happy? To see your favorite truck?!"
I realize now that when Lewis asks me a question, he really is doing just that. He wants to know something. So I am careful to give a truthful answer. I'm starting to like garbage trucks more and more as Lewis points them out, and by the time I tell him the truth about how they're not my favorite, they might actually be.