When Pretending is Serious Business

Today, Mal's eye caught on fire, so he had to come into the doctor's (my) office for a shot, as one does. I gave him a shot, and he proceeded to tell me that I needed to use the hammer. I tested his reflexes, and there were none, but that could be because the hammer is plastic and I wasn't getting near any tendons.

As the exam went on, he kept telling me instruments I needed to use, ending with scissors. I proceeded to cut off his big toe and replace it with a Play-Doh prosthetic (pretend, also). Mal got really upset and pretended to take off the prosthetic toe. "I don't want Play-Doh! Give me something else!"

"I can't. I super-glued that on. You can't just take it off."

Mal started to get genuinely upset. "Give me my toe back!"

Then he changed tacks: "I want a tire."

So I put a tire on his toe.

"Not that one. That's yellow. I want a black tire."

I put a different one on.

"That's brown."

Then I pretended to use a spray can. "Shhhhh-shhhhhhh shhhsshhh. There I painted it black."

Brightly, "Okay! Thanks!"

And that was all for playing doctor.

Later, Mal was playing Paw Patrol. Recently, I rearranged his closet to fit more stuff in it. It looks great and works like a charm... until something needs to be removed. I'd just taken down the giant Paw Patroller, and pulled out a bunch of track pieces and the lookout tower. I was sitting in the floor when Mal decided he wanted to get out his Cars, too, to play "Car Patrol."

"Okay. Your cars are right there, just inside the closet."

In fact, I'd just picked ALL of them up and put them away to make room for the new play sets. Mal, who was sitting halfway between me and the closet, said, "You get them!"

"Nope."

Mal insisted louder that I get the Cars. At one point, he got mad that I was playing with Rider on a bike and took him from me, hiding him on the far side of the room and walking much further than he would have had to in order to have gotten his cars.

"Mom! You get them!"

"Why can't you get them? You're much closer and they're right there."

"Because I'm scared of the monster!"

"Well, so am I. I don't like monsters."

"There are no monsters that live in my home; there's only me and my family."

"THEN YOU CAN GET YOUR OWN CARS!"

"NO, MOMMY, YOUUUUU!!!"

He climbed over me and asked for "deedees" and kept insisting I get his cars. At some point, we got back onto the monsters. I told him I was still scared, and to prove to me that there weren't monsters, he opened his closet door, revealing the Cars bag.

I pointed this out, and he hid behind me saying, "But I'm still scared!" I told him I was, too. He said, "But the monster will eat me because I'm a kid! He won't eat you!"

"Yes he will! He'll say, 'Look! There's a big lady. I'm not wasting my time with this little kid. I want the giant treat!' Then he'll eat me and poop me out later and it'll be really gross."

I can't tell you what happened after that, except that neither of us got the cars and a few hours later, when one of Mal's friends came over, he did try to get the cars himself, but the bag got hung up on a drawer knob. Again with the "everything fits, but just don't try to move anything."

And this, friends, is why my brain is how it is these days. This is how I spend my hours. Good times. Gooooood times.