No. Brown. Accident.

After the trip to the Chabot Space and Science Center, the boys and their mothers settled down for well-deserved naps. The Dads headed out for a walk. Mitch was keen to show me the neighborhood and I love walks like this, exploring a new place with interesting terrain and a guide who likes to talk about his surroundings. Great for me. I would have loved to go running in their neighborhood as well. It's wonderfully hilly and the air was quite brisk. Unfortunately the initial drive in taught me that the street layout was all but incomprehensible, at least for a newcomer, and as I didn't figure taking the GPS on my run was a practical idea, I gave up on the idea of a run. No matter, the walk was great. Mitch, JoAnne and Dorian live in a great little neighborhood.

Once all walks and naps had ended we all prepared for a sojourn into the city. [Those of you who have seen Dress to Kill, I implore you to imagine the way Eddie Izzard says "the city", about this very city, as you read those words.] JoAnne and Mitch wanted to take us into San Francisco to one of their favorite restaurants. So we got ready and headed out in separate cars. JoAnne, Wendy, and Dorian in one car. Mitch, me, and Kiernan in the other. This was the only point in the trip when I wished we had taken the huge minivan Enterprise tried to thrust upon us. However, while it would have been nice to ride into the city all together, riding separately provided a singular benefit: the conversations of Kiernan and Uncle Mitch.

Mitch and I belong to the same school of toddler communication. That is, we are wired to field any question from a child as a serious question and do our level best to answer that question, no matter how absurd, no matter how deep we are in the "why" thread. Our answer may be as absurd as the question, but that answer is delivered with all seriousness.

We were not two minutes away from the house and Mitch was talking to me about the nearby Mills College when Kiernan chimed in with, "Excuse me, Uncle Mitch. Excuse me, Uncle Mitch."

We paused.

"I have a question," said Kiernan.

Mitch thanked Kiernan for his politeness and told him he would be done with his story in two minutes, and then he would answer.

Kiernan waited patiently and by the time we got on the freeway Mitch was ready to answer Kiernan.

"I have two questions."

"Okay Kiernan. Go ahead."

Kiernan's first question: "Are we there yet?"

Mitch's answer: "No."

Kiernan's second question: "Mitch, is your hair black?"

Mitch's answer, after the laughter: "No, it's brown."

Those were his two questions, asked back-to-back. "Are we there yet? and "Is your hair black?" I love how kid-dom is so often Non Sequitur Land. At least to us.

The conversation went on, went back and forth, and as we sped along the freeway I clicked on the heat in the car. A moment later, Kiernan asked, "What's that smell?"

We went through some smell investigation, along with various denials, until Mitch finally said something like, "Oh no!" As it turned out he had stepped in something a dog had left behind in front of his house. Unfortunately for Kiernan, being in the back seat meant that the car heater carried the smell right back to him. Mitch told him him the smell was because of what Mitch had stepped in.

Kiernan asked, of course, "Why?"

Mitch answered, "Accident." Then Mitch said, "So, the answers so far are...'No.' 'Brown.' 'Accident.'" He then went on to make a point about the thematic nature of these answers, but I think we shall move on at this point.

We proceded on our way and eventually got to the Bay Bridge, which is a very cool bridge to drive across. As we approached it, Kiernan asked if we were on a bridge; he's at the point where driving on cool bridges and significant tunnels is cool and interesting. Mitch mentioned that the Bay Bridge was about to be replaced, because it was seismically unsound.

Well, the fact is you cannot throw out a term like "seismically unsound" and not expect Kiernan to call you on it.

Kiernan asked, of course, and Mitch being Mitch, without skipping a beat he explained what he meant to Kiernan, that seismic engineers had tested the bridge and determined that it was not up to modern earthquake construction codes. Kiernan pressed him for a deeper explanation, so Mitch gave him an example, explaining that during the big earthquake of 1989 a part of the bridge had collapsed and a car had fallen through.

Kiernan seemed content with this and was quiet as the conversation moved to other topics. After a few minutes Kiernan finally asked a new question.

"Where's the car now?"

I know I go on and on about how I love the way my son's mind works, but there's a reason for that. I'm crazy about it. I just love that after several minutes of talking this is the question he came up with. That you can see that the wheels were turning the whole time, even as we moved on to other topics. And that he was processing the whole conversation, that whole time. Visualizing it in his way. Until ultimately the computer in his brain wanted to know, "If a car fell through the bridge twenty years ago, where is it today?"

I have no idea how we answered this question, as we were so flummoxed by it, but we did somehow.

A little later Mitch pointed out the Golden Gate Bridge, which was visible in the distance. "Look Kiernan, there's the Golden Gate Bridge."

A pause. Then, "Are you serious? The one with things like hair?"

I'm sure you can picture the bridge in your head. I'm sure you can picture seeing it from a long distance. If you can't, go and Google it real quick. Do a quick image search. I can wait.

All those long cables. Off in the distance. "The one with things like hair?" My kid is just so cool.

Next...Little Italy.