We were at playgroup this morning.  The host’s daughter has several dolls, all identical, in various stages of disrepair, all called Emma.  The Emma dolls.

Nik was fascinated by them, and almost came to fistfights over one of them.  Finally, he settled on one of the lesser ones, but was still not completely happy.
We went about our day, and over dinner, I asked him my usual question of “Did you have a good day today?”

Nik: “I had a fight at X’s at the baby!”

Me: “Did you have fun at X’s?”

Nik: “I had a fight at the baby!”

Me: “Do you want a baby too?”

Nik: “Yes please!”

So I went into the guest room where I had a Corolle Tidoo doll that I had bought for Anju for Christmas, but didn’t give her because I thought she was then too young for it.  When he saw it, his face lit up, and he waited impatiently for me to remove all the hundreds of fasteners.  When I gave it to him, he held it carefully, picked up its included rubber ducky and walked over to his little chair and sat down holding his baby.
Then he said, “Baby is stinky, mom!  We need to change its diaper.”
Which we did.  Sort of.

Later on, he held the baby over the side of the couch, made gagging sounds, and said:”Baby is throwing up mom!” 
Glad to know he remembers our shared ordeal from the weekend!

Right now, as I am typing this, he is lying on the floor behind me, playing with the baby. 

Who is now Super Baby. 

With curiously Buzz-like sound effects.



2 thoughts on “Baby

  1. Pingback: A name « The Little Tortoise

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