Toby has been developing his nurturing side lately. With three older sisters, he was bound to finally see that baby doll as more than a football to fling down the stairs. But it's an odd tension he lives with. Some days he just adores a baby doll. "See baby?" he asks me as he cuddles the little pink doll in his arms, "Nice baby! Toby's baby!" Then, looking for a little more action, he will strap the tiny pink bundle into our pink doll stroller and take it from to zero to sixty in about three seconds. If the stroller should wipe out attempting to turn the corner from the kitchen into the office at sixty miles an hour, and baby should fly from the stroller incurring massive head injuries, Toby will laugh and strap the poor child in for another spin around the house.
"Oh, no, Toby!" I tried calling in a sad voice once, "Baby's hurt! See, baby's crying now, 'wah! wah!'"
"Ha! Wah! Waaahhh!" Toby joined in with me, grinning, and showing no sympathy.
Today Toby's baby was hungry. "Put baby in boos-seat! (booster seat)" he narrated for me, "baby's hungee! Eat chips, baby! Tastes good!" Then he had an even more brilliant idea. He promptly ejected Baby from the booster seat to the floor and ran for his kid-sized red Dirt Devil vacuum. Heaving and grunting, he hoisted a vacuum as tall as himself into his booster seat and managed to get it to sit upright and stable there. "Ha!" he laughed to himself as he pushed the vacuum up to the table, "See, Mommy? Vaccuum's HUUUngee!" Proudly, he stood back and admired his work. Then he coaxed his favorite buddy, "Eat chips, vacuum! Tastes good!"
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