"I'm oozing mine 'magination!" declared Michael to his mom the other day. A month away from turning 3, he's begun taking on other identities, remaining in character for 5 minutes or even an hour at a time.
"I'm Dr. Seuss!" I kept hearing around the house this evening. Finally I saw Michael, playing with Kennedy and Carter, friends who were visiting. Evidently all three were Dr. Seuss.
Then I smiled as it dawned on me: they were each wearing a toy stethoscope, bright yellow tubing with bright red and blue pieces hanging around their necks.
The 4-year-old also heard, and quickly took corrective steps: "Dr. Seuss isn't a doctor!" We all love to correct misguided poor saps.
"I'm Doctow Seuss!" insisted the 2-year-old.
"But he's not a doctor!" argued his brother.
"He's not?" I asked, surprised Nathen had picked up this subtlety.
"No, he's not a real doctor. He's just a man who writes books."
"You're right!" I affirmed him.
But Michael had the final word. "I'm Doctow Seuss."
No comments:
Post a Comment