Cold Case In Ellyson

My sons washed the car yesterday in Florida sun and warmth. The front bumper was splattered with 1300 miles of bugs and dust collected from our cross-state trip over spring break. My youngest asked me to see how well he cleaned the front with my “keen eyesight.” “Keen,” I asked? “Great word!”

My 12-year-old is often the little man of few words. But he’s also the one who, at 6, asked us to be quiet because “I’m concentrating.” On what I don’t know, but he has always had a vocabulary more adult than kid.

Language paints a picture for the mind. Carefully chosen words have so much more meaning, add so much more strength than the vagueness of “nice” and “cute” and “cool” that creeps into our conversations. I’ll take his quick meaningful quips over today’s prattle any day. Keen rocks.