Forrest is learning about the world through his toys, which are a mix of legos and transformers and bionicles. He built something out of all three that was a scary skeleton-horse, and my step-mom said, "Is that your anti-pegasus?" Forrest responded in the derisive tone he uses when you know something he doesn't, "What's an anti-pegasus anyway?" "Well," my step-mom said wandering into the kitchen to make peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, "Anti means opposite. So if a pegasus is a good horse, an anti-pegasus is a bad horse. If matter means something is something, then anti-matter means it's nothing." Forrest looked toward the kitchen where her voice was coming from with a blank expression. Later, when I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a white russian, Forrest came over and put something tiny in my hand. I looked at what was the cutest lego creation I've ever seen, a single unit grey lego with a little white skeleton lego head of the same size stuck on top. "That's an anti-mouse," says Forrest very seriously. "Thanks, Forrest, " I say, and kiss him while I burst inside.
