In the past week or two, Donovan has started playing with his stuffed animals. We have a bunch of them in his toychest downstairs and a bunch in a basket next to his bed. As a kid, I was way too butch for dolls and my early world revolved around Ted the Bear, Simon the Kitten and a cast of supporting stuffed characters. I would gladly spend big bucks on stuffed animals for my child 1) if I had big bucks and 2) if he paid them any attention. A couple of years ago, despite the fine array of stuffed animals procured for him by his loving mother, Donovan's best friend was an empty yogurt container--when I moaned to Sheryl about it she suggested I draw a smiley face on the damn thing. It gets funnier the more you think about it.
Since it's summer, we've been letting Donovan wake himself up so the past few mornings when I've gone to check on him all the animals are on his bed having a birthday party. So far Giraffecow, RayRay and Puppy have had birthdays (Giraffecow does not like chocolate cake, apparently, but had a strawberry one instead). Donny has also been building elaborate houses out of his architectural building blocks and then taking his Flowers (the generic term for a set of wooden play figures he has that are based on flowers and trees) and placing them in the house: "Bluebell is talking to Acorn about food. Little Baby Mushroom is sleeping on the roof--that's where his bed is" and "Bluebell is their mama and Redbell is the sister and Buckeye is the sister and there are THREE BROTHERS!"
Love, love, love it. Imagination: I hope it never stops.