|Beam me up, mama.|
A twist on the plot is that sometimes baby is looking for papa. Sometimes even - gasp - mama and her papa.
Ali likes to loudly recount this plot structure during movies. TV shows. Book reading time. Etc.
Lately her parental search algorithm has bleached into the physical world. Toys must be nested with their parents.
Which is why we spent last weekend at the zoo: a baby giraffe had to be reunited with her mama.
One problem with little plastic giraffes is that they are pretty cool and thus worth fighting over with your sister. This means that little plastic giraffes are usually missing at least one leg and look a bit twitchy.
Another problem with little plastic giraffes is that they miss their mamas so very much.
And so our twitchy, three-legged plastic giraffe had to be returned to her mother unit. As an added bonus her papa was there too.
|You there Mom?|
At moments like these I am reminded that my kids see me very differently than I see myself. They seem to think I am a super-human who holds up the dome of the world.
I remember having this concept of my parents too. I know it will be replaced with criticism, then understanding.
Which is a relief: dome-holder is an awfully hard title to live up to. And it can lead to backache.