"Monty. That's my special name for you. No-one else can call you Monty."

"OK, Jude."

"So. Monty?"

"Yes, muck-a-pie?"

"Are we going to be friends forever?"

"Yep! Friends forever and always."

"Mon-tye, did I come out of Daddy's joins?"

"Joins?"

"ARRRGH! What is it? It's not joins, it's....it's...MONNN-TEEE! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?"

Ah, my precious Jude. I'm going to miss these little chats when you go off to Kindergarten in the fall.

He totes in a Lego war-ship he's just built and demands,

"Are you friend or foe?"

"Foe!" I say.

A barrage of spitty gunfire noises.

"But really, I'm a faux foe," I say.

"Faux foe? What's faux foe?"

"It means I'm not a real foe. I'm your Monty, afterall."

"So, you're fake?"

"No, faux and foe are homonyms. The words sound the same but mean different things."

He gives me a blank stare. "Wanna hear my armpit fart?"

Spitty fart noises.

"Farty faux foe!" I crow. Jude cackles gleefully. We go bouncing around shouting FARTY FAUX FOE! FARTY FAUX FOE! It's a delightfully alliterative thing to say. Not polite, exactly.

But it's so fun! That's fo' sho.