My 9-year-old son has an important question for our hosts: "How many square feet is your house?"
I scramble to explain. "He's very interested in houses," I say. "Next he will want a tour, and he will need to know how many bedrooms and bathrooms you have."
"Yes," Ben agrees. "And is your house one story or two stories? Do you have a finished basement?"
Fortunately, our hosts are dear and good-natured friends, one of whom my husband has known since childhood. They are tickled to tell Ben all the details of their mid-century modern ranch home, to allow him to trek all over the property, inspecting everything from the countertops to the fish ponds out back.
"That's how you learn - by asking questions," says our indulgent friend as she leads Ben through the main floor. (It probably helps his case that she spent decades as a teacher.)
I know by now that trying to stop him is more work than it's worth. It's easier to just explain about Ben and houses and hope that people can maintain a sense of humor about the small home inspector who has come to visit.
Ben's favorite television show is the HGTV program "Love It or List It." He watches, rapt, as homeowners renovate their houses with the guidance of a designer, then make the decision about whether to stay in their old house or move to a new one. He talks to the TV like a man engrossed in a football game.
"Now they don't have a place to eat!" he says, incredulous as a couple eliminates their dining space in favor of a larger living room. "How will they have real dinner?"
Ben spends hours with his Legos, constructing and deconstructing home layouts. "Do you think this kitchen island has enough clearance?" he asks me solemnly, holding up his latest design for consideration.
I peer over the Lego floor plan. "Well, it seems like it might be a little close to the wall," I say. "What if you made the living room slightly bigger?"
He ponders, then starts pulling small bricks apart. "I could open up the space between the living room and the kitchen and make the island a peninsula. Like a breakfast bar."
"Good call."
And good grief, don't even get me started on Minecraft. I have spent countless hours of my life touring Ben's vast, blocky house designs in that game. The soaring ceilings, the spiral staircases, the multi-level decks, the walk-in refrigerators.
"I wish I could really build a house like this," he says, clicking walls into place.
"Maybe someday you will," I say. "Building houses is a fun job."
Our own house doesn't do much for him, and he isn't shy about letting us know. It's OK and all, but it has no basement, and everything but the playroom and attic is on a single level.
"What if we could build a basement under our house?" he says.
"That would cost more than our house is worth," I explain.
"OK," he bargains. "If we ever move, can we get a house with a basement? Or maybe a two-story house?"
"Tell you what," I say. "When you grow up, you can build a house like that, and I'll come live in your finished basement."
"Well ... maybe," he says.
I'll take it. I know how hard it is to get on a good builder's schedule.
Contact Mary Fortune at thirtytensomething.blogspot.com.