fuss: Dread Captain Meowsers the Pirate

He has a few adorable obsessions lately, which I figured I'd better jot down before the next wave obliterates them.

Firstly, zombies.
He loves Halloween above all holidays and has been curious about zombies since our screening of Paranorman, where they were a cause for concern until the reveal that they were persecuted and misunderstood rather than ravenous for brains.

For the last couple of weeks, accelerating as Halloween approaches, he's been insistent on differentiating real headstones, which may at some point produce zombies, with decorative ones, which are just for show and thus zombie safe.  Scrolling through Netflix the other night he spied the graphic for Monty Python's Life of Brian and asked if it were a headstone.  Not wanting to get into a discussion about graven tablets and the Ten Commandments I fudged and said yes.

"But that's okay, because it's just decoration- no zombies can come out from under it?"

He's also very interested in allergies, particularly what is allergic to what.
We have a game we play on the old bed in the sun room- the white mattress pad is snow, and the green comforter is grass.  Fuss essays the role of  "a little Alien boy" who is allergic to grass, and I try to catch him in the 'grass net' of the comforter.  The other day he saw a bird sitting on a power line and wondered aloud why it didn't get electrocuted.  I began a convoluted half-assed explanation based on birds not weighing very much, which Fuss wisely discarded in favor of his own theory- "Dada, their feet must be not allergic to the wire!"

And the other morning on the couch we were having some fun with the Cozy Friends when he made this demand:  "Dada, you pretend the mean clown is allergic to sock monkeys!"

On the subject of Cozy Friends, this morning we enjoyed a long play session that eventually evolved into Fuss & a number of the Cozy Friends sailing the bounding living room carpet in a large green canvas toy bin, with Dada impersonating periodic stormy weather by throwing a blanket over the 'ship' and rocking it mercilessly.

Eventually I had to go check the orders and pack books before heading to the shop, which did not go over well, a childs desire for your absolute & complete attention being roughly equivalent to the enthusiasm a starving man might feel for a heaping buffet table.

As I checked and printed out the orders, I heard commotion behind me. When I spun my chair around, printouts in hand, I found the 'ship' full of Cozy Friends anchored square in front of me, captained by a Fuss wearing his black kitty ears.

"Ahoy!" he declared, "This is Meowsers the Pirate!  We're sailing to San Fransisco!"

This clearly called for an oceangoing Dada voyage, but I was up against the clock- I had a pile of books to track down and pack before work and due to our morning play session not much time left to do it.  It's one of those parenting moments you know you'll regret even as you're doing the responsible, adult thing, wishing him bon voyage & looking for the box with the padded envelopes and the tape gun.

So I hustled through the packing, and he single-handed his pirate ship through the Straights of Gibralter to save harbor in the bedroom.

I finished up with a few minutes to spare, stole a piece of the Wife's toast for breakfast and checked in with Fuss, who had moved on to constructing strange creatures using pieces of several different construction sets.

"What's his name?" I asked of a hybrid octopus/cyclops beast he was using to menace the train table.


"Do you want to play 'ship' for a little bit before I go?"

Silence...plus, he turned away and pretended to be really interested in what was in the closet in case I didn't get his point.

Which I understand fundamentally- that's exactly how I'd react to my enthusiastic offer to play pirate, or whatever, being spurned, however valid the reason.
So I left him playing Lord of the Closet with his octo-clops and visited with the Wife for a few minutes before taking off.

By leaving time he'd migrated back to the living room.  I bid the Wife farewell, then turned his way.

"Bye bye, Fuss!  Hug and a kiss?"

He charged over to me arms wide. I hefted him aloft, he gave me a big smooch then tucking his face into my neck squeezed hard and said "I love you, Dada."
"I love you too, Fuss."

He lets things go and it's no big deal- forgive and forget, moving right along.
Which is I think the difference between his good childhood and my crappy one, another indicator that we're doing a good job.

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