I’ve been through this stage four times before, but the imaginations of preschoolers still amaze me. My three-year-old pretends all day long. He pretends that he is making me a cup of coffee. I don’t drink coffee and the contents of the cup are a clear liquid that he’s gotten out of the spout of the water cooler. I play along. He directs me to blow on it to make sure it’s not too hot. I take a sip. He tells me to finish it.
He puts on his baseball cap, sunglasses and mitt and pretends he’s Chicago Cubs right fielder Kosuke Fukudome. He pronounces it perfectly as he explains who he is. He pounds his fist into his mitt as if he’s expecting a darting ground ball to come soaring at him any second. He dives on the ground to tackle the invisible ball before it gets past him.
For some reason my empty Market Day boxes have become kitty carriers. He’ll grab one, scolding me for not being more careful. After all, his playful pet kittens are packed inside. He gently sets it down and picks it up, sure to keep it out of the path of his big brothers. Once in a while, he coaxes me into petting them and covering them up with a blanket.
It can get tiresome, but it’s so entertaining. And it’s one of those phases that I know won’t last a whole lot longer. Well, you’ll have to excuse me. I have a fresh cup of coffee waiting.