At first, she was like MacGuyver with a minimally damp wet wipe and a green crayon. It took me a few minutes to realize what exactly Abby was doing. Then I noticed her clumsy hands fumbling to wrap the cloth around the colorful stick. When that didn’t go as intended, she carried her items to me in earnest. “Baby!”, she shrieked.
All of the dolls sitting untouched and she’s babying a crayon.
I played along and swaddled it convincingly enough. She then held the crayola stick tenderly by her face. Until her “baby” fell out of it’s enclosure.
Maybe her father could do better, I’m sure she expected, so she tried to get him involved in the game next. She walked up to him and demanded, “Daddy! Baby!”.
Clearly not paying attention, he wondered, “What?”.
“She wants you to wrap the crayon up like a baby”, I told him flippantly.
“Why would I wrap a crayon up like a baby?”, he asked, bewildered.
Why is the sky blue? Why does ice cream taste so good? Why do the kids go batcrap insane an hour before bedtime? Why ask questions? It is what it is. “Because she wants you to.” He should’ve known that answer by now. What more of a reason do you need?
Though I don’t know what he was complaining about. I’m the one who was later forced to snuggle the “baby”. All he had to do was wrap it once in a wet wipe.