So there's this Barbie leg that's been lying on the floor of our office for a few days. Finally, someone noticed it and picked it up again to play with. It just happened to be my two-year-old, Shiloh. She brings it to me. "Leg, Mommy!" (For the record, Shiloh can talk in big sentences, but I guess she didn't feel the need due to the obvious nature of the statement.)
I take it from her and proceed to imaginatively show her all the things it could be. You know, a knife, a fork, a popsicle stick, etc. After my little show, which I happen to think is brilliant and quite entertaining, she continues looking at me with her blank stare, clearly unimpressed. It's quiet for a moment as I'm smiling, waiting for some sort of recognition of my brilliance. And she says again, "...Mommmy. LEG."
Ah, well. Yes, I guess that's all it is. Although a few minutes later, I notice she had found the leg's partner and was using them as drum sticks. I sometimes laugh to myself at the thought that we don't even bat an eye at the Barbie carnage lying all over the house. In closing, I'll add that when I set out the coloring materials just now for my two littlest girls, the Barbie legs were haplessly thrown to the floor as she abandoned them for crayons. Poor Barbie!
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