Why children are fabulous entertainment

Baby S is 2 years and months old.
He talks.
He really talks.
He carries on full conversations, sometimes with just himself.

He was upstairs while his brothers were outside playing. Apparently, he was watching everything that was going on outside.
I heard him upstairs yelling:
"Hey Brothers. Hey, What you doing?
Hey Angel. (The dog)
Angel, you eat a dog bone?
Stamper! (The other dog)
Stamper, you eat a dog bone.
Hey Stamper, you eat it all.
Stamper! Stamper!
You done?
Hey Stamper.
I know you hear me Stamper."

I finally suggested that he go outside and speak with the dogs directly.
"But I have no shoes. I have no socks. I have on my pants though. Hey....I stink too. You change my diaper? No...no...It's just gas."

He is currently beside me playing with little Rescue heroes as I type. Full running commentary.
"walk, walk, walk
Nope, still too far to go.
Pshooo (shooting noise)
I got the silly bad guy.
You dead Silly bad guy?
Oh no, a space ship.
Help, help
Yeah space ship you hear me saying help.
Help me get down. It's too far to walk.
Pshoom, pshoom. (space ship noises)
Thanks for the ride.
Do you know the way to the mountain?
You fly right over that mountain
You'll see the silly bad guy.
I shot him.
He's dying, dying, dying.
He won't get better."

I smell a sci-fi channel screenplay. I guarantee it would be better than that English made were-wolf movie they showed last year.