He grudgingly put the robot on the table beside his plate of food as he sat down. "Milk," he answered with a smile, fingers absently brushing against the hard plastic of his new toy before tucking his napkin across his lap. Noah's feet dangled off the edge of the chair and swung back and forth lightly.
His lips pressed together and forehead scrunched in an exaggerated thoughtful expression. "Well," he said slowly, "first I got all the tools. Then, I got the pieces out of the box. Then, I put it together." He picked up his fork, glancing down at his eggs as he admitted, "They had pictures you could look at, but I didn't need them. 'Sides, one of them was wrong anyway. The wires were all the wrong colors in the wrong spots."
With a forkful of eggs, he looked back to his father. "It was like someone told me how to do it, but nobody really did. My brain just knew it already." He took a bite of his food, then, chewing happily and swallowing before offering, "I could take it apart and do it again, if you want to see?"