Language

At the store, Kyle heard someone murphle through their mask to a friend, "Poor thing is still playing robot!" and a look was exchanged (a mixture of acknowledgement and compassion ... or pity). "I didn't call them out on it," Kyle explained to his parents when he got home. "It seemed pointless to do so." Sonya nodded, getting up from the table and moving across the kitchen to press a button on the wall behind the blender. Kyle froze. "It's that right there," she said. "A 17-year-old does NOT say, 'It seemed pointless to do so'." "Yep," Larry responded, standing. "The language center references are off - too archaic, and the stiffness in the left side remains." Notes were made on a napkin as they theorized over coffee and agreed on what should be done. "And I have to ask," Sonya sighed into the sink. "Is it time to introduce swear words? I mean ... he's 17." "Oh, man," Larry reacted. "Big ol' can of worms there." "Super convincing, though," she added. "We cannot have him drop a jar of pickles and exclaim, 'Mercy, mercy me!'" Sonya started laughing and Larry followed suit, knowing that the next part was picking the right word for Kyle to blast under his breath.