Bad Robot

In the car on the way home the other night, I look in the rearview, which I keep aimed at Gamble. I see his arms set at right angles, and he's jerking them mechanically up and down.

"Gamble, what are you doing?"

"I. am. a. bad. wobot." I see the robot speech pack hasn't done anything to help him sophisticate his R's.

"I see. Ok, Gamble..."

"I. am. not. Gamble." the robot interrupted. "I. am. bad. wobot. Buzz. Lightyear. Are. you. a. wobot."

Ok, so I started playing along.

"I. am. a. bad robot. My. robot. callsign. is. KPD."

"Nice. to. meetyou. bad. wobot. K. P. D. I. am. Buzz. Lightyear. wobot. I. can. fly."

"No. you. can't. bad. robot. Buzz. Lightyear. You. can. only. fall. with. style. The. wind. blows. you. around."

"No. because. I. am. a. bad. wobot. made. out. of. bricks."

I didn't know how to respond, but we'd arrived home. One thing I noticed immediately (and maybe you other parents can back me up), was that once you've been talking like a robot for ten minutes or so, it's very difficult to stop.

He was talking like a robot from the minute we walked in, and Nicole asked me whether it wasn't the cutest thing. I had to agree, but the first few words I issued were very robotic.

We had to go out to sports class, his last one, but the robot fun continued. We started arguing again about whether he could fly. He had one cast-iron argument:

"I. can. fly. Ambivity. ambien!"

"What?"

"Ambivity. ambien!!!"

"Don't. you. mean. 'To. infinity. and. beyond.'"

"Yes. Ambivity. ambien. I. am. a. big. wobot. I. am. a. million. big."

"Ok. I. am. a. billion. big."

His wobot CPU was pegged for a few seconds as he considered his next comment:

"I. am. bigger. I. am. Australian."

I assume he was trying to say 'a trillion', but it didn't come out that way. I never new that Australian was bigger than a billion.