Talking to myself

The other evening, I took Danylo with me to run an errand. I needed to change some dollars for hryvnias, and buy groceries.

The vicissitudes of my business occupied my minds, and while re-imagining some uncomfortalbe work discussion, I spoke to myself. I know I spoke to myself, because Danylo, sitting on my shoulders, asked me what I was saying.

“Oh, nothing,” I initially replied, but he wasn’t satisfied and asked again.

“I was just speaking to myself,” I said. “Sometimes I do that.”

We continued on, and I thought nothing of it. We paused to watch a garbage truck, lifting and emptying bins with its robot-like crane, and putting them down again, one after another. I pointed out how hydrolic legs move down and bear the weight of the truck while it’s lifting, and them move back up, returning the truck’s weight to its wheels. Danylo waved goodbye when the truck drove on, and to our delight, the driver waved back.

Danylo asked many questions about where it was going, and later about what some sign says, and other questions of the sort that children ask.

After we’d walked on in silence for some time, he said something else which I didn’t quite hear.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I’m just speaking to myself,” He replied.

I almost laughed, but didn’t say anything.

And twice more before our return, he mumbled something, I asked him what he’d said, and he said he was just speaking to himself.

This is similar to when he learned what pockets were, and that you could put your hands in them. He spend two solid days barely removing his hands from his pockets.