This trip was rather saturated by history and somewhere along our journey Benjamin decided not only that he admired George Washington; he decided that he was George Washington.* In fact, when we visited Mount Vernon on Saturday he would only respond to us if we called him—and referred to himself in third-person strictly as—"General Washington."
"Hey! Wait up! General Washington want to climb that fence, too!" he'd call after his sisters.
Or we'd end up begging and begging and begging with him to obey before we remembered that he was no longer Benjamin: "Don't touch that, Benjamin. Benjamin. Benjamin! BENJAMIN! (sigh) Don't touch that, General Washington."
"Yessir!" he'd suddenly snap to attention.
One of the easiest ways to get him to listen to us, actually, was just to call out, "Attention!" or even, harking back to our marching band days (which is as close to military training as I ever got), smashing the command into the two-syllable bark, "Ten-hut!"
Immediately he'd stop whatever he was doing, snap to attention, and salute us: