The Object of His Affection
I keep reading that age three to four is when imaginary play begins, and certainly we’ve been slaying monsters and doing Iron Man poses a lot around here. I also read that age three to four is when imaginary friends show up for only or oldest children. Until a week ago, I had seen no signs of this at all.
Now I have, sort of, and it is capital W Weird. Simon has decided to personify his metal Tonka dump truck (could I make this up?) and make it some sort of hybrid friend/proxy. Tonka is the truck that Simon delights in pushing around the basement when we play “good trucks” or “bad trucks.” I am never allowed to push it; I am stuck with the cheaper, plastic Silverado that doesn’t roll straight and sits lower to the ground. I’m not a big fan of this game, nor is my back.
But I digress. A few days ago Tonka came upstairs to play. And to sit on the couch. And to snuggle. And to cuddle with me and watch Noddy when Simon goes off to camp. Honest engine!
Every morning this week when we’ve told Simon it was near time to leave, he’s gone to Tonka, bent over it, grunted slightly as he strains to lift it (it’s pretty big for him), and said, “Oh, Tonka is heavy; I have to be very strong” while putting it on the couch. Then he continues:
“You sit right here, Mommy, next to Tonka. While I go to camp you can sit right here on the couch with Tonka and snuggle with him and watch Noddy Twinkly Star. OK, Mommy? You’ll cuddle with Tonka and keep him company and watch Noddy Twinkly Star?”
And every morning, I sit down next to Tonka, stroke its metal scoop and pat its cabin as though it were a pet, and promise to take care of Tonka. I also tell Simon he’s being a good friend to Tonka by wanting to take care of him.
This is what I’m supposed to do, right?
Yep, that is what you are supposed to do.
Let us know when Simon wants you to set place for Tonka at the supper table.
My friend was called Bouch.