I notice Jeffrey has his hand in his pocket and seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time moving it around in there.
"Hey, get your hand out," I tell him.
He mumbles to himself, "If you keep playing with your calculator, you'll be in trouble." Then he laughs in his very quiet, almost half-hearted but most certainly maniacal way.
I decide to pursue this one.
"You have a calculator in your pocket?"
"Yes I do." He produces a black, Dollar Store quality calculator from his pocket and displays it for me with pride.
Throughout the day, Jeffrey constantly types on the calculator, mumbles to himself, laughs a little, and then types some more.
I ask him what he is doing.
"The calculator tells me stuff."
"What am I going to do tonight?"
"It tells you what to do?"
"Yep." He just stares at me for a minute. "It says go home and exercise and get some energy in my legs."
Then he feverishly types some more and begins to laugh.
"Now what did it say?"
"It told me a joke riddle. Just a naughty joke. Just a clean joke."
"What is the joke?"
"I can't say it, I don't want to get in trouble."
I assure him he will not get in trouble.
"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
"The calculator said that?" I ask.
"Yep. Why did the chicken cross the road?" He is already giggling and I worry he will not get the punchline out. But he manages.
"To get to the other side and get the eggs of course!"
He immediately stops laughing.
Now I have to ask:
"What does the calculator's voice sound like?"
His face gets very tight and serious.
"Like a microphone....inside of a calculator."
Jeffrey types some more on his calculator, and stares for awhile at its little LCD rectangle display.
"Look at that," he whispers, a note of awe in his voice.
That was yesterday.
This morning, the calculator is back.
"I'm keeping this in my pocket today so I don't get in trouble," Jeffrey says.
"Did the calculator tell you any more jokes?" I ask him.
"Yep. It said, 'Why did I go to bed last night? Because I wanted to!"
He does not laugh, and neither do I.