![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/01\/Luke.jpg\" "\\"Luke\\"")
<\/a><\/p>\nThat’s right.\u00a0 One of my good friends left her 3 year old son, Luke, with me while she took care of some business in town.\u00a0 Luckily, I still have one closet shelf and one drawer filled with toys for the Under 5 crowd.\u00a0 The pickings were slim but even though the Rescue Heroes only got a quizzical glance, Thomas the Tank Engine and his cronies were instantly recognized.<\/p>\n
“Got more Thomas?” Luke asked sweetly, pulling 3 little engines from the drawer.<\/p>\n
I refrained from mentioning how the insipid Thomas the Tank Engine videos made me want to drive off a bridge and the merchandising made me want to either burn down the Mattel executive offices or just fill their every inch of workable space with expensive train tables covered with non-interchangeable track systems.<\/p>\n
“No, honey, just those ones,” I said.\u00a0 We burned the rest of them at the stake.<\/em><\/p>\n He was just settling into Matchbox cars and vroom<\/em>, vroom<\/em> noises behind the couch when I heard a strange dog barking outside.\u00a0 I looked at Big, who was at home because for the next 2 weeks the high school students only go to school on the days that they have exams.\u00a0 When they aren’t already home from school because it’s cold.\u00a0 Or icy.\u00a0 Or MLK day.\u00a0 Or a teacher work day.\u00a0 It’s a tough life and Big has only been to class once this week so I figured he could investigate the barking dog.<\/p>\n “Do you hear a dog outside?” I asked.\u00a0 Which, in mother-speak, means “Go see if there’s a barking dog outside.”\u00a0 Which he understood because I’ve been his mother for 15 years.<\/p>\n Luke peeked over the back of the couch.<\/p>\n “Dat my dog, Herk,” he announced.<\/p>\n “No, baby,” I corrected him.\u00a0 “Your dog’s at home.”<\/p>\n The dog barked again.<\/p>\n “Dat my dog, Herk,”\u00a0 he insisted.<\/p>\n “Nope,” I repeated.<\/p>\n “Um…,”\u00a0 Big said as he looked out the back door onto the deck.\u00a0 “It’s a really fat chihuahua.\u00a0 I think it is<\/em><\/strong> Hercules.”\u00a0 Big opened the door and Hercules marched right inside.<\/p>\n “Yep, ” said Luke.\u00a0 “My dog, Herk.”\u00a0 And he came over and patted him on the head.\u00a0 Because it was Herk.\u00a0 Hercules.<\/p>\n Hercules is 15 years old now and while I was starting my family, my friend was also starting hers.\u00a0 Except while I was loading a Suburban with car seats on my way to the pediatrician, she was jumping in her Geo Metro with her baby chihuahua on her way to Charleston.\u00a0 Or Hilton Head.\u00a0 Or Charlotte.\u00a0 Or all the other places people with chihuahuas can go that people with infants and toddlers cannot.<\/p>\n And despite having 2 kids of her own now, she continues to load Hercules in the car for road trips.\u00a0 Except this time she loaded him up, let him out at my house to pee, handed off Luke to me, then jumped back in her car and drove away.\u00a0 Without Hercules.\u00a0 Oh, the life of a beloved dog after the kids arrive.\u00a0 But Hercules is no fool.\u00a0 So when he was done with his business, he trotted up to the back door, and barked to be let inside.<\/p>\n “Huh,”\u00a0 I said as I looked at him.\u00a0 “Hi, Herk.”<\/p>\n Sure, he had a bit more gray than the last time I saw him.\u00a0 I’m not going to pass judgment on that.<\/p>\n \n And his waistline was a bit more filled out.\u00a0 I’m not going to pass judgment on that.<\/p>\n Also, he had to pee constantly.\u00a0 Even if it meant on the fridge and the kitchen chair and the wheel of the chopping block table.\u00a0 As of right now I manage to make my frequent trips to the bathroom just fine.\u00a0 I guess I’ll have to withhold judgment on that until I’m 105 years old like him.<\/p>\n \n Once Hercules was recovered, we moved on to serious play time.\u00a0 It was just the way I remembered it.<\/p>\n Cars.\u00a0 Provide enough vehicles for crashing into each other and then get out of the way.<\/p>\n Blocks.\u00a0 You build it, he knocks it down.<\/p>\n Slinky.\u00a0 Stairs, again, stairs, again, stairs, again.<\/p>\n Pinwheel.\u00a0 Is there anything cuter than a 3 year old spitting, I mean, blowing on a pinwheel?<\/p>\n For a while Luke was really interested in a tiny handheld clicker, like the kind used for dog training, that he found at the bottom of the Under 5 drawer.\u00a0 For some reason the Highway Patrol gave away a bunch of these at the State Fair one year.\u00a0 Allegedly, it was to promote their “Click It Or Ticket” seat belt campaign.\u00a0 In reality, it seemed like some bizarre test to see how many miles you could drive home before ripping that clicker out of your kid’s hand and flinging it out the window.\u00a0 Which seems detrimental to their anti-litter campaign.\u00a0 Anyway, it seemed like the perfect toy to give to a friend’s 3 year old kid.\u00a0 Until I realized it was only the perfect toy to give to a friend’s kid about 5 minutes before he leaves for home.\u00a0 Not 2 hours before his mom arrives to pick him up.<\/p>\n When we hit the bottom of the toy drawer, I considered what was in the craft cabinet.<\/p>\n “Do you like Play-Doh?” I asked.<\/p>\n “Yeah.\u00a0 No.\u00a0 What’s dat?”<\/p>\n No.\u00a0 Freakin’.\u00a0 Way.\u00a0 No way has my friend raised 2 children and avoided Play Doh.\u00a0 The mess on the table.\u00a0 The chunks all over the floor.\u00a0 Play Doh under their fingernails and ground into their clothes.\u00a0 That could not stand.<\/p>\n “Play Doh it is!”\u00a0 I exclaimed.<\/p>\n He had no idea what Play-Doh was, even when I got out the little yellow containers.\u00a0 First, we threw out all the dried stuff, then we picked dried stuff out of the tools and extruders (unfortunately, we didn’t have the latest and greatest Play-Doh tool<\/a>), then we went to work.\u00a0 I showed him how you could form Play-Doh into shapes then smoosh it all up and start over.\u00a0 We practiced rolling out Play-Doh with the rolling pins so we could make cut-outs.\u00a0 Of trains, of course.\u00a0 And every train had to be given creepy eyes on its head with the Play-Doh pencil because well, you know….<\/p>\n \n We filled the figurine makers and popped out dinosaurs, Bob the Builder, and the Hulk.\u00a0 Luke didn’t know who the Hulk was but the name made him laugh and he was suitably impressed with his physique.\u00a0 We went free form and made our own spaghetti with meat balls, ice cream cones, and pancakes.\u00a0 I suggested making pies but he said he didn’t like pie.\u00a0 Cupcakes were also vetoed because “dat’s bad for you”.\u00a0 (????)\u00a0 Cake was fine but we had to peel the neon orange Play-Doh frosting off the black Play-Doh cake before pretending to eat it.\u00a0 Yeah, all my Play-Doh was from a 75% off bag of mini-sized Play-Doh containers in Halloween colors, designed to be passed out to trick-or-treaters.\u00a0 Which is almost as bad as the pencils passed out on Halloween but not half as bad as the toothbrushes that some people pass out.\u00a0 It’s Halloween, people.\u00a0 Play the game right or don’t bother.<\/p>\n But, of course, the best part was squeezing the Play-Doh through all the extruders.\u00a0 The hand held, the table top, the ones that made long, thin noodles of Play-Doh and the ones that thick star-shaped chunks.<\/p>\n I have never figured out if the appeal of extruders to kids is that it is one of the first gadgets that they are given free rein over (heralding their future of remote controls, video games, smartphones, etc) or that once a long strand of shaped Play-Doh is produced it can be cut, sliced, and tortured with a variety of Play-Doh knives.\u00a0 Some of the Play-Doh knives, excuse me, “cutting tools”, are practically suitable for the Inquisition with their variety of blade choices and brutal edgers.\u00a0 Regardless, it may be the first knife a child handles unsupervised and supports a whole new generation of humans wielding folding knives and multi-tools.\u00a0 Is Play-Doh owned by Leatherman, people?\u00a0 Do we know?\u00a0 Do we really know?<\/p>\n Of course, the cutest part was watching him push the Play-Doh through the tools.\u00a0 I forgot how little kids grunted and groaned, clenched their teeth, and pushed until their hands and arms shake with effort, trying to force the Play-Doh through the little holes.\u00a0 A-dor-able.\u00a0 Also, I want it noted for the record that I did not first lay out the plastic play mat on the table and insist all Play-Doh stay on the mat before opening the Play-Doh containers.\u00a0 Nor did I freak out about the mixing of Play-Doh colors.\u00a0 If black and neon pink Play-doh mixed together is your thing, go for it.\u00a0 Apparently, I am more laid back as an Auntie than as a Mommy.\u00a0 Who knew?\u00a0 We did have to put all the Play-Doh tools neatly back in their container and stack Play-Doh cans back on their shelf in the craft cabinet.\u00a0 Ditto with the correct blocks back into their box and cars back into the car drawer.\u00a0 I might be an Auntie but I’m not a Grandma.\u00a0 There are still some rules.<\/p>\n As we headed outside for the swings on the playground, I wondered about Luke and reviewed our day.\u00a0 I couldn’t decide if 3 year olds were more advanced now or if Luke was just an old soul.\u00a0 I thought of how quickly he identified Hercules’ bark outside.\u00a0 Just a fluke, I thought.\u00a0 Kid has a dog, kid hears a dog, kid thinks it’s his dog.<\/p>\n Then I thought about how we turned on Curious George for him while I dug out the toys.\u00a0 Since we don’t have a cable or satellite, we just make do with an old TV and an antenna.\u00a0 We can get PBS but the picture occasionally freezes or the screen goes blank, flashing “No Signal Found.”\u00a0 Just as Curious George was about to stop Charkie from dashing into a busy city street, the picture froze.<\/p>\n “Aaagh!”\u00a0 Luke groaned, slapping his head and threading his fingers through his hair.\u00a0 Me and Big laughed out loud.\u00a0 Because it was just like watching an anguished grown man, standing in front of the TV during a particularly horrible fumble by his favorite football team.\u00a0 When I shoved in a Wiggles video (I know, I know, I’m aging my parenting) that I knew wouldn’t freeze, he looked at me as if I had tried to compensate for him losing $100 in his fantasy football league by turning the channel to a soccer game.\u00a0 After a moment of stunned silence, he sighed heavily.<\/p>\n “Got Thomas?”\u00a0 He asked.<\/p>\n Dear God.\u00a0 That character was created by a Reverend.\u00a0 What were You thinking?<\/p>\n Then there was that moment when we were playing blocks.\u00a0 As I built up towers to support the car ramps, Luke kept holding up one of the street sign pieces.<\/p>\n “Ex, ” he said.<\/p>\n “Yep.\u00a0 Stop sign,” I replied.<\/p>\n “Ex,” he repeated, holding up the sign.<\/p>\n “I know, stop sign,” I repeated as I tried to get the right incline.\u00a0 Luke got up and carried the sign over to Big.<\/p>\n “Um, Mom,”\u00a0 Big said.\u00a0 “It’s not a stop sign.\u00a0 It’s an X.”<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n