It melts me to watch Tucker’s focused concentration while playing with and launching his Blue Angels. He loves them. He flies them from their aircraft carrier at the base of the stairs to the kitchen counter, to the table and to the couch. Although he’ll ask for them if he can’t find them (“Bwue An-gos?”), he doesn’t narrate their flight patterns. And so I imagine his whispered* internal conversation. I imagine that it’s beautiful in its simplicity. I watch him and wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s thinking, and what about when they’re lined up ready to take off. And when they take off. Perhaps it’s as simple as “Fwy, bwue an-gos, fwy…” Which is enough. For me.
*Often times, when prompted to say an unfamiliar-to-his-mouth word, Tucker whispers it. It’s a bit heartbreaking as I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s embarrassed or insecure in his pronunciation. But that’s why I imagine his internal conversation is held in a whispered voice.