We live in an area of constant construction. We pass sites daily that have highrises going up or massive pits for foundations for highrises going down. And every time, by which I mean every single time, G and I have this exact conversation:
Look! I see them! Do you see them?
It's more of the big ladders!
Those are called cranes, love, remember?
Well, you could call them that but I call them ladders.
I know, sweet boy.
I really see a lot of big ladders.
I do, too.
But what's the wrong word that you call them again?
Cranes, love. They're still called cranes. It's not wrong.
You really are wrong, though. You're not right. They're really ladders.
Eventually, the cranes always pass out of our line of vision and the conversation suspends like another midair steel beam.
But eventually after that, there's always another construction site.