Tonight, Jack called me from his bed, “Mama” (he hardly ever calls me “Mama” anymore, usually “Mommy” and sometimes “Mom”, but I digress).
I went in. He asked me to get him his pillow, which had fallen on the ground. He then asked me to get “Skippyjon Jones’s dog.”
I was confused, so I felt around in the dark in the pile of stuffed animals in front of his bookcase (yes, we do need more stuffed animal storage). I found the dog we call Mr Scraps and gave him to Jack.
“This one?” I asked.
“No. The white one.”
“The white…” I looked and there was a white shape in the pile.
“You mean Charlie Brown’s dog!” I said in a “silly goose” voice.
Jack giggled. It was terribly cute. Therefore, I acquiesced when he asked to be rocked some more. He said, “Wanna take my blanket. … And my Skippyon Jones dog.”
“You mean Charlie Brown’s dog, Snoopy.”
Now I am really glad that I didn’t give Snoopy to the foster kids when I thinned the stuffed animal herd in 2005.