Like when your son falls in love with a potato. Yes, a potato. Now admittedly, this is partly my fault. You see, he went through a phase where he thought emptying the pantry was the funnest thing ever. So when he dove into the bag of potatoes on the bottom shelf, I pulled out the smallest one with the smoothest skin and magic markered an authentic, 100% BPA free, Mr. Potato Head.
He loved it. Aloo, he crooned [Potato] and with it he left the pantry alone to show aloo his toys, stuffed animals, and for reasons unknown, the laundry basket. He pulled aloo in his wagon. Watched Sesame Street clutching aloo to his chest. The Three Bears can’t be read alone now, aloo must also be present. Sometimes I would even catch him lying on a pillow in the living room whispering secrets with his beloved aloo.
Sadly, unlike stuffed bears and monkeys, an aloo, though a hearty root, has a limited shelf life. And early this week, aloo began showing his age. Knowing Waleed possessed a dear attachment to said aloo but fully aware there were approximately 25 other siblings in the bag, I tossed out the aloo and drew another smile on another potato and presented it to my son.
He looked at the aloo, handed it back to me and marched over to the trashcan where yes, lying within toddler reach was his aloo. He clutched it and stared at me as though to say how could you? Now, knowing the depths of cruelty I’m capable of, he keeps an eye on aloo a bit more than usual. I’ve gone through the whole stockpile of potatoes and they’re all big monstrous beasts compared to his dainty aloo and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll have to make a trip to the grocery store, aloo in hand, for a produce guy to help me pick a matching pair to replace his current beloved.
As I type this my son naps and the potato rests on the couch. I swear it’s grinning at me. It’s as if its telling me, french fries I will never be, I am here to stay.
|The aloo. It has seen better days.|
What about you? Your kiddo ever develop an attachment to an interesting unexpected item?