Buddy Play

Ever since my return from North Carolina, Alice and Robert have been (almost) nonstop fun to play with again. Was it the vacation? Or did something actually click while I was gone. Suddenly, their play is more compatible than competitive and Buddy turned into this little boy. Less baby than ever, he's shedding his babyhood one synapse at a time. I'm watching him again. He's changed enough recently that I've needed to reacquaint myself with who he is and where he's going. Add that to my recent acquisition of NurtureShock by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman, and there's a whole lot of thinking goin' on in the parenting section of my brain.

Anyway, I've got my eye on him, and this is what I see as he plays during the last hour of church today:

He polishes off the last of the cheddar crackers. He should have been asleep two hours ago. He wants more crackers, but the little bowl is empty. He puts the lid on, takes it off, puts it on again. Looks at me. Nope, no more crackers, no matter how many times you close the lid, Boo. He signs for me to hold him, I pick him up to put him on my lap, but he arches his back and slides silently over to the empty seat next to me. Was that on purpose? No matter. This, he likes. He sits there on the chair, all smiles, with his short little legs out in front of him. Too short to reach the front edge of the seat. All grown up.

He plops the bowl and lid on his lap and begins a new kind of play I've never seen. He takes the lid off, puts the bowl to his mouth, looks hard inside, and puts the lid back on. Repeats several times. Then, while he's not looking, I slip a miniature stuffed cow into his bowl. The next time he looks, suddenly there's something new to play with. He giggles. Lid off, cow out, bite cow head, return cow to bowl, lid on. Repeat. He accidentally drops the bowl on the floor, slides off the chair to retrieve it, puts the cow in, puts the lid on, then asks for help back onto the chair. Something similar happens when he accidentally drops the cow on the floor. Then he opens the lid, pulls out the cow and says, "Mmmmmmuuuhhh." (Robert's version of 'moo') Giggle, giggle. Another bite to the cow's head, and then he plops the cow back into the bowl.

This time, however, the lid slips. Instead of sealing the cow safely inside, the lid actually scoops the cow out and flings it onto Robert's lap. Giggle, giggle. Robert plops the cow back into the bowl and starts using the lid as a spoon to feed me the cow. It's a tough trick, so he gives up on the feeding part and just scoops and dumps the cow over and over again. That proves to be difficult, too, especially in Robert's exhausted state, so he eventually squeals in frustration, shoves the bowl and the cow off of his lap and slides off the chair. He grunts and fusses two feet away and collapses on the floor when I offer the bowl or cow again. Tired boy.

Later, the lid becomes a face-smashing window (it's a clear lid) and the bowl spends a brief period of time as rose-colored glasses (it's actually clear purple, but you get the idea). Lots of giggles all around. He's a fun little character when I spend time learning how he plays.

Point of the story: he spent most of an hour exploring ONE toy that wasn't ever intended as a toy. I also learned that he likes to work on skills. If he figures something out (i.e. climbing a step, stabbing food with a fork, wearing huge shoes, pushing a button, moving something heavy, turning a lid into a spoon, etc.) then he wants to do just that one thing over and over and over again. Up the step, down the step, up the step, down the step, even if he's not that good at it. Especially if he's not that good at it! Stab something with the fork, pull it off with fingers, stab it again with the fork, pull it off. I used to get all frustrated that he was restless or playing with his food. I just wanted him to pick ONE thing and stick to it. Turns out, he had decided on one thing. It just wasn't an activity I had even considered remotely important...to me. It's the most important thing in the world to him, though. Now I get it.