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Josh at Play

 My entire family has become attached to "Mr. Elephant," a small, rag-like doll who follows Josh on most of his daily adventures.


When the cleaning person tossed Mr. Elephant onto a pile of less-special stuffed animals, I had a surreal moment; I felt as if I'd just found my own child in a dumpster. I had to stop myself to recall that Mr. Elephant is not really a living thing.

Sometimes, I think the adults here care more for Mr. Elephant than the actual doll-owner cares (and that doll-owner is Josh). When I left Mr. E at home, recently, and I arrived at the airport, my heart stopped. My husband considered a drive back to Maplewood: How could our kid sleep without his animal? Josh observed this drama with a cool eye, and he later pointed emphatically at a patriotic teddy bear, in a Hudson News window. "You want me to go to sleep and to overlook your mistake?" he said, silently. "Buy me that bear, and we'll call it even."

Or perhaps I'm making too many inferences.

We're home, now, and Mr. Elephant is with us, once again. He has a small, new patch of spit-up on his head. We all sometimes sing his name, in a celebratory chant: "Mr. E! Mr. E!" This thing is Josh's therapist, pillow, cigarette, lunch date, colleague, and friend.

We're reading:

*"A Place to Land." The best MLK book I've encountered.
*"A Bargain for Frances." On tea sets and treachery....
*"A Parade of Elephants." Because OF COURSE!

Happy weekend.





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