Bright will be three next month. It is hard to believe, but impossible to deny. Every day I see in my toddler glimpses of the little boy that is coming. Watching a child grow up is fascinating.
His newest thing is the name game song. He heard the original recording the other day on an old record player at Miss Allison's house. To refresh your memory, the name Mama would be sung, "Mama, Mama, bo-bama, banana-fana fo fama, fee-fy mo 'ama, Mama." His name game skills are flawless. He can do any name, and has become quite addicted. It's like he can't stop himself. For example, the other day he wanted me to get something for him and he asked, "Mom, will you get it...get it, bo-bet it?"
Along with having fun with linguistics and music, he is really beginning to flex his imagination muscle. He spends the whole day being either a dinosaur, a frog, or a monkey. He and I have made up two imaginary characters, Wiggly the big purple lion and Herman, his pet fish. Wiggly lives in a doughnut-shaped house that is covered in T-shirts. When Bright is sad, I hold him close and tell him stories about Wiggly and Herman. Life with an almost three-year-old is most wonderful.
And so tonight, as I tucked him in to bed, I stroked my son's soft, blond bangs in the dark and told the story of when magical pink rain fell on Herman, under the water, and it made him very sleepy. Minutes later, as I began to clean up the kitchen, I heard Bright singing himself to sleep, crooning, "Marsha, Marsha, bo-barsha..."