Last week Elma had her two and bit year old check up. She passed with flying colours, the nursery nurse at our health centre agrees that we have a happy lively and thriving little two year old and before we knew it, and certainly before the girls had quite exhausted all of their interest in the children’s centre’s toys, we were on our way again. There was just one moment that gave me slight pause. Because when you’ve gone through the questionnaire there’s a little bit where Elma needed to answer a few questions, play with a few toys and just show that Mummy didn’t make up the answers in the same style as someone attempting a multiple guess quiz. So she sat down and I tried to hold Kitty’s gaze and will her not to answer for her sister, and Elma duly handed over the cup and the fork, and then the spoon and the ball, with an expression that could only be “but what on earth do you want a spoon and a ball for?” She brushed teddy’s legs and washed piglet’s face and then turned to the book.
A book full of pictures of animals in, on and under, animals with the ball and without the ball and as each page turned, and we had a cat, a dog, a horse and a cow I willed the next animal to be anything other than a sheep.
Because you see according to my daughter, this is a picture of Elma and some Marys:
I don’t know why she thinks that a sheep is a Mary, but she does. It’s only started up in the last month or so,though I couldn’t be certain that I’ve ever heard her call one a sheep before hand, and for now they are absolutely definitely Marys. We don’t sing Mary had a little Lamb very often if at all at home, she’s not at nursery at present so she hasn’t picked it up there, and I’m absolutely certain that it isn’t in Frozen.
Which leaves just one thing; Elma’s imagination. And I think it’s rather sweet. At one stage she carried around a little plastic cow and a little plastic sheep at all times; Mary and Moo, her constant companions until they were lost under the bed, never to be discovered again (I’m going to find them in a bag of old clothes in ten years time I’m certain!), and every time we go down to her gym class we stand in the corner of the car park to watch the sheep in the field and a little voice pipes up happily “it’s Marys!”
Eventually she will realise that everyone else calls them sheep and I’m in no hurry to correct her for now because I think it’s part of being two to have funny names for things and these are the little things that we’ll remember fondly when she’s all grown up.
But as the final page turned, I held my breath ready to explain that she knew what it was.
A rabbit say on a table.
“Bunny ona table!” said Elma, and we moved on.