Why shouldn’t that little kid be blessing the almighty tractor? My mum spent most weekday evenings teaching me how to read the Quran after nursery onwards. I finished the Arabic, without translation, by the time I was four years old. Meanings were just sounds that I made with my mouth directed by my mum who showed me how to wrap my tongue and close my throat to hit the consonants and navigate the punctuation, or lack thereof, for the correct flow. Even a single missed beat, or a clean “cuh” where there should be a “quah” would change the entire context of the sentence. As a child who didn’t know the literal meaning of each word I was sounding off, the theory was abstract and intimidating. “I didn’t know that I changed the context of this sentence from paradise to punishment,” but neither did they guy who promised Muslims for centuries the tantalising offer of seventy-two virgins in paradise. Hey, at least there’ll be those juicy raisins waiting for us upon arrival.
Meaning made me do it. That’s what I meant! It doesn’t make sense to me. You’re confusing. You don’t communicate well. Can you re-explain yourself, yes I know you just explained yourself to me for 10 minutes because I asked you to - no, of course I do not appreciate the fact you’ve taken the time to do that - but I’m arrogant and wasn’t really listening anyway, so could you just say it again? But better? Lets face it, we’ve all been in a conversation with someone like that. We all know someone who we can bet 10 bucks on would express the above, in any given situation. And yet, we have patience for it. It’s like when you do a bad thing and ask god if you can still go to heaven - it doesn’t make any sense but it also doesn’t mean much to god anyway.