A Modern Version of "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother"

This morning my two oldest boys were playing a two-person monster truck racing video game, sitting side by side in chairs with cords dangling to the boob tube. I braced myself for the inevitable squabbles and whining between a "big boy" and a preschooler who are on way different playing levels and cannot EVER seem to get along lately. Instead, I overheard this conversation...

Sammy: (Helpless) Zaya! Help me! Help me! I'm stuck, Zaya! Come get me!

(A split screen shows Isaiah's truck racing around the track and Sammy's truck sitting motionless on the side of the road, "stuck" in a guard rail. Not surprising, since preschoolers aren't usually adept at using video game controllers.)

Isaiah: (Urgently) Hold on, Sammy. Zaya's coming! Hold on!

(He always refers to himself in the third person when he's feeling heroic.)

Sammy: Oh, no! Zaya, hurry! Help me!

Isaiah: Here Zaya comes, Sammy! Just hold on! Zaya's coming to save you!

(The split screen shows Isaiah's truck zooming around the track back to Sammy's location. Isaiah backs his truck up and then steps on the virtual gas pedal, ramming Sammy's truck out of the guard rail and back onto the track.)

Sammy: Yesssssss! You saved me!

Isaiah: Zaya has to go now! Hurry, Sammy!

Sammy: I'm twying! I can't know how to do it!

(Isaiah proceeds to lap Sammy and then ram his truck into Sammy's, sending the hurling fireball off the track and ending the game.)

Isaiah: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I destroyed you!!!

Sammy: (forlorn) Oh, maaaaaaan. *sigh*

Isaiah: Sorry, Sam. I thought you were someone else.

Sammy: You're supposed to cwash the purple twuck.

Isaiah: Oh.