We stood atop the tower near a gray mountain that appears to have been cleaved in half. Placing our binoculars to our eyes, my son and I surveyed the area for glowing lights that indicate a shrine to visit. "I see something!" Son would shout, and I would mark whatever caught his eye with a pillar of light; each of those punctuated with a happy expression about the glowy-colors of each. I ask him what each color is, he tells me. "Goooood," I think, scratching my chin.
Tonight, Son was all about pointing out every moblin camp we stumbled across. He also needed to be the decision-maker on how we approach each encounter. He's really into that. The differences between the words ignore, avoid, and engage have been taught and these are the key words he keeps using upon seeing the tree-slung forts of the moblins.
After taking over a camp, Link stared at the Dueling Peaks, a cooking pot lit aflame nearby. I started a dialogue questioning how the mountain might have formed, being split by a massive and slow moving glacier - like a river of moving ice - oh. Oh, he's stopped paying any attention to that long ago and wants me to cook. Okay, can do!
We spent the rest of this game session with my son selecting the ingredients we would mix together. He was extremely joyous about cooking insects to make "drinks." Lots of 'em.