I don’t know why he asked it — probably because the concept of small talk is completely lost on him — but last night at dinner, B asked me when the prime of my life was. He worded it just like that, in English. Sometimes a question like this means he’s picked up a new English phrase and is giving it a spin. Sometimes he’s just heard a song that’s made him feel a certain way. Who knows?
I told him I hoped I wasn’t past my prime, frankly, that it hadn’t happened yet.
The look on his face seemed to indicate that this hadn’t occurred to him as a possible answer.
“… Oh! Me, too!”
He then described a future prime, something about me and him riding horseback with our fat little cat Moja cradled between us, because cats love riding horses.