I wrote a blog entry about a week and a half ago about my “other”
child, a sock monkey named E.E., who had become my daughter’s “lovey,” and whom
I had to keep track of as carefully as I would another child to avoid breaking
her heart if E.E. should ever go astray. Well, wouldn’t you know that a few
days later, E.E. somehow managed to acquire a “lovey” of his own, a little pink
sock monkey that my daughter dubbed “Pinkie.” (Well, she actually named her “Pink,”
but my husband was really bothered by that name for some reason and convinced
her to change it to “Pinkie.” Because that’s more creative. Or something. Hey, as
long as husband, daughter, and monkey are all happy about it, so am I.)
So now I have another other child to keep track of at all
times.
Now, instead of asking “Where’s E.E?” all the time, my
daughter asks, “Where’s E.E. and Pinkie?” all the time. And now, instead of her
doing things twice as slowly because one of her hands is busy holding E.E., she
does things four or five times as slowly because she’s trying to juggle both
E.E. and Pinkie at all times. She wants to be carried down the stairs every
morning because she doesn’t have a free hand to hold the railing. It takes
longer to buckle her into her car seat because she needs to carefully transfer
both monkeys from hand to hand in order to slip her arms through the harness. Ditto
for putting on a shirt or jacket. And eating, as you can see from the photo
above, is a much more complicated – and time-consuming – and messy – business when
done with two monkeys clutched firmly in her arms.
But there are also advantages to double monkeys. With both
her hands occupied, the chances of her getting her hands on an unattended crayon
or ballpoint pen or magic marker are significantly lessened. She has less
ability to resist when I pick her up against her will for fear of dropping a
monkey. She is more likely to keep herself entertained by making her monkeys
dance together (their favorite is the cha-cha, which for some unknown reason is
danced to the rhythm, “one, two, cha-cha, four, five, cha-cha;” I’m still not
sure where the missing cha’s and the third beat went – sorry Bammy and Aunt
Holly!), or have conversations, or hug and kiss each other. But best of all,
double monkeys means that when one of the monkeys is banished to the washing
machine (as is almost always necessary following any meal involving maple
syrup, ketchup, jelly, or marinara, which includes about 80% of all meals
served in our home), the other can stay with my daughter. While this is not
completely an acceptable situation in my daughter’s eyes, it’s a great
improvement over having no monkey at all until the washing machine cycle is
complete (I don’t even bother with the dryer; damp monkey is better than no
monkey, in her opinion).
So now every time we get in the car – or out of the car – I make
sure I count 4 noses, 2 kids and 2 monkeys. When we leave the playground, I
make sure I have 2 kids and 2 monkeys. I check at least once per aisle in the
grocery store to be sure I still have 2 kids and 2 monkeys present and
accounted for.
But to be perfectly honest, I really don’t mind that much. I’m
just glad that my daughter has such pleasant and well-mannered friends.
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