Ely has been a little wild child lately. Our once-focused, studious little toddler has matured into a full-blown BOY lately, forgoing his ABC's and 123's for monster trucks, long-lasting wrestling matches with "haymakers" (thanks, Dad), and all kinds of vicious animals like dinosaurs, sharks, and snakes.
All of a sudden, his imagination just showed up. He loves to pretend and will frequently hand you a speck of nothing and tell you it's some food, a wheelbarrow, some gas for your vehicle, or even a Mouseketool - something Mickey and the gang use to problem-solve. He even uses fake voices for his toys, and I find myself having pretend conversations with him via one toy or another for 45 minutes on end. He pretends there are alligators down his daycare lady's basement, he pretends to be stuck in "sticky mud", he pretends to cook "ba-getti and meatballs". He pretends to wash his dinosaur's hair, he pretends to feed his stuffed owls with a bottle, he pretends that sticks are really guns, complete with the "bew, bew, bew" and other sound effects.
I knew the day would come when all the baby toys in their boastful primary colors would be put away, when the broad, overarching concepts of baby-hood would fail to hold his attention, and when soft, cuddly moments would be replaced by noisy, grappling elbows and knees. When scary, sharp, masculine figurines would overtake my living room, when more complex imaginative games would keep me on my toes, and when blowing up a tower of blocks would be more fun than building it. I just never thought it happened this soon.
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