Kid Amnesiac

My mother-in-law was once friends with a brilliant woman who went on to start her own school that adhered to her unique theories of education. One of her precepts was that children were not to have any books that included anthropomorphism. So, no Curious George, no Richard Scary, no Dr. Seuss, and no Peter Rabbit. No animals drinking tea, putting on clothes, fixing washing machines, or eating Green Eggs and Ham. Evie tells me her goal was to not confuse children about the difference between humans and animals, but I thought her goal must be simply to suck the joy out of childhood.

I don’t know if this lady’s theories panned out or not, but I do know she’d be blowing a gasket about what’s happening over here these days. Ninety percent of Simon’s favorite books feature walking, talking, animals. The same goes for his favorite videos, unless you count Cars or Thomas and Friends, wherein machines are the ones being anthropomorphized. I’m guessing she’d approve of that even less than the humanized animals.

I’m not too worried about Simon growing up and thinking our car has friends or that our cats can cook, but the confluence of his make-believe play and our preferred literature is making for some funny vignettes around the house.

About a week ago, Simon insisted that his pony (on a stick) could not go to bed standing up. So before we put him to bed, we laid the pony across a chair and tucked him in together. I thought it was sweet.

Two days ago, he spied his giant bunny Bob, sitting up and uncovered at bedtime. That wouldn’t do, either, so we laid Bob on his side and covered him with a blanket for the night. Simon even leaned in to stroke Bob’s ears and give him a kiss. I thought this was unbearably sweet.

And today, while we were rolling cars back and forth to each other in the playroom, Simon suddenly declared “Siren [fire engine] sleepy!” turned the engine over on its side, and proceeded to ask for a blanket.

Ah need benket [for] Siren. Siren sleepy.

So I handed him a throw from the couch, and Simon threw it over the toy fire engine. When I asked him if it was time for Siren to get up, he yelled out nice and loud:

Time get up Siren! Time get up!

And that’s how it played out for the next twenty minutes or so, as Simon repeatedly put Siren down for his nap, got him up, and then put him back down all over again. I played right along, too, because I’m pretty sure the exercise was more about Simon’s understanding his day and acting it out than it was a sign he’s confused about the daily life of a toy truck.