Tuesday, July 3, 2012
I have been waiting patiently for Truman to reach the age when we could "play pretend" together. I spent 99 percent of my childhood playing pretend -- setting up elaborate games with my simblings and friends where we became chefs, doctors, or a children living in a boxcar. I love dolls - first little people, and then my first dollhouse, and eventually my friend's madam alexander dolls. We were always in the middle of some dramatic storyline when her mom would call us to dinner.
Poor Truman. All he has to do is glance in the direction of his dollhouse and I yell, "Let's set up the furniture!" And if he lingers near his play kitchen, I come out of nowhere to shout, "You be the chef, I'll be the customer!"
The picture above was taken in one of the rare moments when I stop talking, take a deep breath, and settle myself down. I just watched him. Baby Cameron had his blood pressure checked, got a few whacks to the head with the hammer, was given a shot into his mouth, and Dr. Truman declared, "Baby happy!"