Fear Factor: Fatherhood Edition
Sophie has a fantastic imagination and loves to pretend. She spends much of every day feeding her babies, driving cars with all of us as passengers, and making us lunch in her restaurant. She putters around with each task, taking care to pay attention to all the details in her imaginary and pretend world. It's an amazing thing to watch, to see her mind work and to realize all that she's learned so far. It can also be a bit tedious sometimes, trying to sit in just the right spot at an imaginary table that you cannot see.
We're all kind of used to this kind of play with Sophie and go along with her instructions while we're going about our everyday tasks. Getting ready for bed, she might ask for a dog treat. You pull one out of your pocket and hand it to her to eat. Folding the laundry, she might drop by to let you know that she'll be right back, right after she takes her babies to the gas station. You don't need to participate fully in some of these activities, just answer her in a contextually appropriate way.
Marty and Sophie sat next to each other tonight at dinner. During much of dinner, Sophie would pass both real and pretend things his way. "More ketchup daddy? Need some salt?" He'd answer, "Yes, yes I do. Thanks for asking." Then, while Marty was adding sauce to his burger, Sophie reached out her hand and said "Bugger daddy." He accepted it and popped his hand up to his mouth. "Oh, that's delicious, thank you."
"SHE SAID BOOGER DADDY! BOOGER!" I shouted.
"WHAT?" Marty's head whipping over to look at Sophie. "But there wasn't anything there! I swear!"
"Yeah, well, she's picking her nose. She handed it to you for the Kleenex."
"It must have escaped before she handed it to me, because THERE WASN'T ANYTHING THERE." He said, shaking his head a few times as if to rid himself of the possibility.
I smiled and thought to myself, "Oh, yes. I understand. Tell yourself whatever you need to, baby, to get past horrifying moments of parenthood like these. I've never scooped poop out of the tub either." It shall never be mentioned again. Except here, of course.
We're all kind of used to this kind of play with Sophie and go along with her instructions while we're going about our everyday tasks. Getting ready for bed, she might ask for a dog treat. You pull one out of your pocket and hand it to her to eat. Folding the laundry, she might drop by to let you know that she'll be right back, right after she takes her babies to the gas station. You don't need to participate fully in some of these activities, just answer her in a contextually appropriate way.
Marty and Sophie sat next to each other tonight at dinner. During much of dinner, Sophie would pass both real and pretend things his way. "More ketchup daddy? Need some salt?" He'd answer, "Yes, yes I do. Thanks for asking." Then, while Marty was adding sauce to his burger, Sophie reached out her hand and said "Bugger daddy." He accepted it and popped his hand up to his mouth. "Oh, that's delicious, thank you."
"SHE SAID BOOGER DADDY! BOOGER!" I shouted.
"WHAT?" Marty's head whipping over to look at Sophie. "But there wasn't anything there! I swear!"
"Yeah, well, she's picking her nose. She handed it to you for the Kleenex."
"It must have escaped before she handed it to me, because THERE WASN'T ANYTHING THERE." He said, shaking his head a few times as if to rid himself of the possibility.
I smiled and thought to myself, "Oh, yes. I understand. Tell yourself whatever you need to, baby, to get past horrifying moments of parenthood like these. I've never scooped poop out of the tub either." It shall never be mentioned again. Except here, of course.
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