If someone wrote a movie based on how I play with my son. Part 2: Spy movie.

Spy 1, wielding intricate weapon constructed out of many tiny, differently colored parts, confronts Spy 2, who is hunched over what appears to be a computer.

Spy 1: So. We meet again.

Spy 2: What? Oh. Yep.

Spy 1: Heh heh heh.

Spy 2: Hang on.

Spy 1: No, you're scared. I have a laser blaster poking you right in your head.

Spy 2: No, right, I'm terrified. I am! I'm just…uh…

Spy 1: HEY.

Spy 2: No, I'm trying to crack the code. The code that will, uh, destroy you!

Spy 1: Oh, no!

Spy 2: Oh yes! Hang on… I just have to hit "send"…

Spy 1: Are you sending … is that email?

Spy 2: Uh, yes, but I am sending it to my cohorts, who are coming to get you! Just as soon as I check something else on this, uh, death computer.

Spy 1: That's not a death computer. There's no such thing as a death computer.

He laser blasts Spy 2 in the skull.

Spy 1: I just laser blasted you right in the skull.

Spy 2: And yet I live! Hang on. I am trying to crack the, um, the other code.

Spy 1 slams the computer closed.

Spy 2: HEY.

Spy 1: Now I will torture you for hours! No help is coming!

Spy 2, sighing: I will find my cell phone and I will send the Text of Doom.

Spy 1: Too late. I've hidden your phone. IN MY LEGO BOX.

Spy 2: Oh, damn it.

Roll credits

If someone wrote a movie based on how I play with my son. Part I: Action movie.

Two men lie among blown-up vehicles of all kinds. The random vehicle components are hard to identify, as if they're all generic pieces that could fit any particular way into each other.

Man 1 (sitting up): I am going to build my space probe. I'm Han Solo.

Man 2 (also sitting up): Uh, me too. Wait, who am I?

Han Solo: Look at yourself.

Man 2: I seem to have a droid arm and the Joker's midsection and Princess Leia's head. This is very confusing.

Han Solo: No, you're Count Dooku. You're my sworn enemy.

Count Dooku: If you say so.

Count Dooku starts whaling on Han Solo.

Han Solo: NOT YET. First we have to build. All these pieces (sweeps hand toward left side of barren field) are for my deploying space probe. You have to use those other pieces.

Count Dooku: But there are only, like, a few wheels, and an axle. What can I build?

Han Solo: (shrugging) I don't know.

They build for what seems like hours. Count Dooku keeps giving up and lying down, until Han Solo yells at him to get back up.

Count Dooku: This is boring. Can we fight now? Or something?

Han Solo: Time to fight. Okay, I'm going to blast you with my space probe.

Count Dooku: I don’t think space probes are meant for blast—

Han Solo: You've been blasted.

Count Dooku: Oh, hell.

Han Solo: You're dead. Lie down.

Count Dooku lies down. Han Solo just stands there. Then he throws himself to the ground as well.

Roll credits.

Henry wants to do the right thing.

Yesterday I asked Henry to go into a store and get something for me while I waited outside with the dog. He performed this task so admirably—I could see him through the store window, saying please and thank you in all the right places, while the guys behind the counter grinned down at him—that when he returned and handed me my change, I said, "You keep it." It was a dollar. He was shocked. A dollar? He could buy out the toy store with this wealth! Buy all the Hershey bars in the universe!

We walked half a block, debating the merits of spending vs. saving. We were waiting outside the grocery store for Scott, and as we stood there, Henry said hello to a homeless man asking for change. Then he handed him the dollar. They exchanged a high-five. Henry walked back to me and said, "That was totally worth it—he was such a nice guy." I waited for him to ask for another dollar, but he never mentioned it again.

Scott came out of the store and we made our way home. Along the way, we talked about homelessness and poverty and inequality and what Henry could do to change things. He's got some big ideas, people. Wait until you hear.

Oh, six-and-half-year-old--you always know what I'm REALLY saying.

Please yell at me for waking you up. I deserve to be put in my place.

If you could slosh as much of your cereal as possible all over the table, that would be fantastic. Cleaning up after you makes me feel useful. When I ask you to help out, you know I'm joking, right? Hilarious!

Read you an entire book while you’re eating your breakfast? No problem—I secretly hate enjoying my coffee and breakfast in peace. Also I am DYING to know how this Magic Tree House book turns out. It’s never the same thing twice.

There’s no rush about getting to school. Put your shoes on whenever.

My raised voice is just an attempt to exercise my lungs. You keep not putting those shoes on, champ.

Of course I want to hear your story about the giant bug robots you invented! In fact I can’t wait another moment to hear it! I don’t want to hear it on the way to school, because then I’d be distracted by how on-time we could potentially be. Stand in front of the door while telling me. Don’t forget to take off one shoe, first!

Now put that shoe back on. But so slowly, it’s like you’re not even moving. You are so excellent at this.

While we’re walking to school, if you demand that you don’t want to go to school anymore, you might just convince me. Don’t give up. I will definitely see your point one of these days.

Now take off, without warning, because you’ve spotted one of your friends! Run and keep on running! Make sure I lose you in the crowd, because there is nothing I need more than to sprint the last few blocks to school. You are helping extend my life span, with all this exercise. Good for you!

While you’re at school, I will be filling your room with new toys and my pockets with chocolate. Or I won’t because I’m a heartless monster.

Well, hello! I trust you had a good day. I spent the day as I always do, watching Star Wars, eating hot fudge with my hands, playing with your Legos. But enough about me. Like you, I am so grateful the front of the school is surrounded by ice-cream trucks. It’s so convenient for me. For us! And I know I said you could only get ice cream once a week, but, you know, I say things. I don’t mean them. If you keep asking I will surely crack.

Do I want to hold your backpack AND your art project AND your jacket? Well, duh.

I can barely say “You can only watch two TV shows” with a straight face! You know that if you keep asking I’m going to admit that you can watch all the television you want. Why do I continue this charade? I guess it’s just fun for me.

That inflatable Spider-Man you got at the fair that keeps deflating? That I told you had a hole in it somewhere and probably needed to be thrown out? Another made-up story. I just want to inflate it every fifteen minutes, whenever you notice that it’s gotten all flat and saggy. When you’re not looking I let some of the air out again. Entertaining!

I lie about bedtime. I lie and lie and lie. I say it’s time for bed but we adults all know that sleep is completely optional. I don’t sleep at all, of course.

That’s why I love it when you call for me at 4 a.m. because your sheets feel funny. I get so bored, just before dawn.

I am truly sorry you didn’t get everything your heart desired, today. Try me again tomorrow. Your tactics are beginning to work. I have a feeling that tomorrow your every wish will be granted.