Lately, it’s the imagination. All of a sudden, it’s like he’s his own playgroup. The other day, I was working in my office, he was doing his thing on the floor of my office. (And on the table, and my sewing desk, and his boxes, and his little table, and…you get the idea.) Then he disappeared without the customary announcement as to his impending location change. (“Mommy, I go upstairs now. You stay here.” or “Mommy, Owwie go in there now.”)
So I went to go check on him. He was playing in the family room (adjoins my office) with his three cousins. At least, that’s what he told me when I asked. Then he gestured at three specific places in the room and named them. “See, mommy? I play with Faiss, lamey, and woll.” (that would be faith, lacey, and will)
Oh, yes, I see.
Last night, he crawled up on my lap and started giggling and saying “stop it!” Eventually, he said “See? It tickles!” Yes, he was tickling himself under his chin. With his hand, which was actually a spider named Faith. Or Faiss, as the case may be. Faith went on to tickle mommy, mommy’s laptop, and mommy’s chair. Mommy played the roles of mommy, laptop, and chair.
And sometimes he gives me the script he wants me to say. “OK, mommy,” he’ll say, holding a toy of some sort, “I say ‘hi mommy’ and Mommy say ‘hi, cowboy!’ ok? Ok, mommy?” OK, sweetie. Then the game commences, and any time I stray too far from what he envisions, he pulls me back with his script-girl promptings.
Oh, and? He refuses to acknowledge Elmo’s name. Which is fine, I hate Elmo. But Elmo’s name, in Wally’s world, is Sesame Street. We have a puzzle, it’s Sesame Street characters playing Baseball. Cookie Monster, Oscar the Grouch (who doesn’t have a name in W-World), and Sesame Street. Kind of makes sense, Luke Skywalker and Anakin Skywalker (he doesn’t realize they are separate people) as often as not go by the name “Star Wars.”
