“What’s that one, Daddy?”

“Uh, that one is a maple.”

“How do you know?”

“Look at the leaves. They have a special shape.”

“But how do you know that’s the name of it?”

“My dad told me, when I was about your age, I guess.”

“How did he know?”

“I suppose his mom or dad told him.”

“But how did they know?”

“Well, I guess that long ago, like thousands of years ago, someone must have seen a maple tree for the first time. And it didn’t have a name, so they made one up.”

“How did they know what to call it?”

“If you name something, you can call it whatever you want. We named you. Maybe we should have name you Maple.”

“So if I find something new, can I name it?”


“How about that one? Is that new?”

“No, that’s another maple.”

“That one?”

“That’s an oak. I don’t think there are any new trees along this road.”

“Where are they?”

“I have no idea. When you get older, you go find them and when you do, you can call them whatever you want.”

“I’m going to find a new tree and I’m going to call it a smajigooble.”

“Yeah. You do that.”

“Dad, I have a question.”

“Oh, really?”

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