Our three-year-old is developing quite the imagination! But sometimes, its a little slow in the making. Our babysitter, C, loves to joke around and have fun. She picks on the Boy incessantly, which he normally just eats up. One game, however, took a while to figure out.
Being three is tough. The Boy will testify to that. He often whines or gets upset when things don't go quite the way he wanted. C's response is often, "Sorry, Charlie!" "Don't call me Charlie! I'm not Charlie!" the Boy replies forcefully. They've been doing this over and over for weeks now. Occasionally, C will call him Fred, or Bob, or any number of other names. Her kids have joined in the fun, as well. And the Boy keeps telling them, "I'm not Fred!! Don't call me Fred!!" Finally, one night last week, he got it! C was calling him Charlie. One of her kids was calling him Fred. I was calling him Bob. And it clicked that we were playing a game!
A few days later, the Boy and I were playing at home. He decided to taste my arm to see what flavor I was that day--apparently I tasted like pizza. As we joked around, he bonked me with his head or stepped on me or did something else painful, and I said, "Ouch! That hurt!!" With a gleam in his eye, in a very sympathetic voice, the Boy said, "Awwwww, what happened, Pizza?!!" What a little stinker!