We ate at The Empire of the Evil Clown on our way home from our road trip the other day. The kids put in orders for their own personal versions of a happy meal, and the pre-requisite piece of plastic crap, aka -toy. I usually ask for three ‘girl toys’ fearing the arguments if they don’t all have the same thing, but The Father Figure returned with a ‘boy toy’ for the Middle Child. A small, press-a-button-in-my-back-and-I-punch Incredible Hulk.
Muski was well pleased because green is his favourite colour, but a little way down the road he asked, “So who is this green man anyway?”.
He has two older sisters and while he has been indoctrinated into the world of horrific ‘girls toys’ he is yet to discover the plethora of equally awful ‘boy toys’. He has no idea about super heroes, and had no idea who The Incredible Hulk was, but the next few days all we heard about was his ‘green man’.
“Where is my Fablious Elk?”
“I want my Really Great Elk.”
“Here’s the Fantastic Elk, he’s playing with Mint Barbie!”
His innocence. His naivety, His wrong sayings….
I just want to wrap him up and keep him like this forever.
I know that is not possible, especially when he is about to take his first real step out into the big wide world.
Ok so it’s only a little step. One afternoon of preschool a week is not earth shaking, but it is his first real movement away from the close circle of our family and friends and out into the world of others.
He’s going to listen to other adults (well hopefully he’ll listen). He’s going to make friends, friends that may or may not be (gasp) boys. He’s going to learn about Ben Ten and discover that it’s possibly not very cool for a boy to like Polly Pocket and to own a Barbie, or three. He’s going to idolise someone other than his big sisters.
That’s all good stuff. It’s part of growing up, and he’s ready… he’s so ready.
But am I ready?
Am I ready to begin letting go of my blonde haired boy? My Morgan Muski Butterfly Marshmallow Poop Face Car…
I guess I’ll find out in three more sleeps.