We’re having some concerns with Max’s heart lately: the walls are getting too thick too quickly, and he has a new type of tachycardia that his rescue medicine won’t work for. Rather than send that train of thought into a tunnel of darkness, let’s think of this:
Max is fairly committed to being a robot. He has me press a button on his cheek to open his mouth to eat, and enter a code on his chest to get him to unfreeze or to change into pyjamas. He issues terse instructions and narrates the goings-on at the playground in a deep little robot voice. This morning, as we were getting ready to brush teeth, Max the robot crawled into my lap and said, “Out of battery. Need to go to docking station.” Then he snuggled right in and I tried not to let my leaky eyes cause any rust or electrical damage.
I don’t know how long his little life will last, but oh boy is it a good one.