Alice the Wonder Dog

Last weekend Fox spent about an hour taking care of a little marble that he dubbed “Alice, the boy dog.” He took a little chain (Alice’s necklace/blanket) and a plastic half dome (Alice’s house) and spent a lot of 2-year-old time and concentration putting Alice down for naps (so he can rest!) all around the house. I don’t think Alice slept very well because he was up and down about a thousand times. Fox was so precise with taking care of Alice and carrying Alice all around the house…tons of concentration and not a single beeping/flashing element to this play time. Loving it!

Of course, being a marble, Alice is sort of hard to keep up with and has been misplaced for nearly a week now. Fox was still playing with Alice’s “blanket” and “house” all week, wondering where Alice had gone. Our neighbor came to the rescue yesterday with a new marble (same size/shape, different color) and a larger, smooth, white rock. These items are now known as Daddy Alice and Big Boy Alice. Fox takes good care of them, too

Trash Trucks

Last night while I was cooking dinner, Fox was playing with play-doh in the kitchen. Rolling and patting and scraping and, yes, throwing the play-doh. All of a sudden he started SCREAMING and crying, holding his hand out and looking at me with pleading eyes. What in the world happened? I checked him for bleeding. None. Bruising or holes or squinting? Nope. I couldn’t for the life of me find a single reason why my child should be crying like he had just gotten a splinter or stabbed himself or something. 

• Me: Fox! What’s wrong, baby? Are you hurt?
• Fox: waaaaaaa waaaaaaa mmmhdmsime o gmodpw 
• Me: Baby, I can’t understand what you ‘re saying while you’re crying. Say it again…
• Fox: waaaaa waaaAAAAAaaaaa djdiowpdkdn todis
• Me: (kneeling down in front of him) You have to calm down for me to understand..

I waited patiently, being silently supportive and trying not to panic. This went on for a full minute or two, which is a LONG time when you think your child is injured. Finally he managed to choke out: “I want….(sob)….to…(sniffle)….see a brown…..(sniff sniff sob)…trash truck.”

Are you KIDDING me??!?

• Me: (puzzled) You want to see a brown trash truck?
• Fox: (nodding in all seriousness) YES…(sob sob sniffle sniffle…more pleading eyes)
• Me: (trying desperately not to laugh) the trash trucks are sleeping right now…can we watch one on the computer? (snicker)
• Fox: (sniffle) uh huh….yes, please…

I couldn’t be more serious when I say that Fox is passionate about trash trucks. We watched a 5-minute video that showed a large variety of trucks picking up garbage in some Florida neighborhoods and he has been focused on being the best trash truck he can be ever since. He holds out his hand like a claw and says “this is a robot hand on a trash truck”  and then picks up things, moves them, and puts them down oh-so-carefully in slow motion. Evidently, trash trucks also stomp in slow motion and say “stomp” with every step. He sometimes changes things up and becomes a backhoe, like last night when he wouldn’t put on his pajamas or lie down in the bed until I addressed all requests to “Mr. Backhoe.” Our imaginations are being nurtured around here these days, just in case you were wondering