I had to tell him--I didn't want to tell him for fear of the response ruining our otherwise calm morning-- I blurted it out rather calmly, "Santa is broken."
"Monna? Peease? More? Sanna?"
"Honey, it's broken. Santa broken. No Santa."
He discovers the misplaced book on the floor, wires hanging out one end. "Uh oh. Uh oh. Broden. Uh oh." Two minutes later it had turned into a whiney wimper, "Uhhh 0000hhh. Brooooodddeeennn." I need to find a really good hiding spot for this one, but since it is beyond repair, the hiding spot may end up being the garbage.
A good read on Fragile What?!. Focused on autism, but still applies a lot to Mr. Punkin.
Another good read on X Men.