The Boy has a world in which many inanimate objects converse with each other, and sometimes with himself. Yesterday I got him to eat because I told him that the peas needed to talk to the pasta in his tummy, and the pasta was lonely in there all by itself. After he scarfed down the peas, he then re-enacted the conversation that they would have.
“Hey Pasta! How you doing in there!” “Good, Peas!”
And today, I learned that the sun converses with the clouds:
“Clouds, I am tired and want to go to sleep.” “Ok, Sun, good night!”
So that’s how they agree on sunset every night.