Oh, he still enjoys a visit to a contruction site every now and again, and his toy excavator is definitely his most precious possession, but, generally speaking, machines no longer form the central focus of all our activities. When we're drawing pictures (or, more specifically, when Rusty and I draw while Sam dictates the subject matter), we're now allowed to draw animals, trees, and alien spaceships. When telling Sam stories, I no longer have to bastardize old fairy tales by replacing the characters with construction equipment (i.e. Goldilocks and the Three Excavators, The Three Backhoes Gruff, Jack and the Dump Truck, etc.). And at mealtimes Sam no longer demands that we feed him by pretending to be Mike Mulligan while his spoon is Mary Anne.
So, you know, progress. Yay.
But like any hardwired monomaniac, Sam, of course, has to trade one fixation for another. And right now he's all about animals. I'm cool with that, though. For one thing, I like animals, whereas (and don't tell Sam I said this, because I will deny it vehemently) I couldn't give a rat's ass about construction equipment. And for another thing, there are way more species of animals than there are types of heavy machines, so the repetiveness factor, while never totally eliminated, goes way down.
So no one was more gung-ho than I when Sam proposed a recent trip to the library to get more animal books. Once there, we trolled the shelves with the thoroughness that only an obsessive two-year-old can muster, and Sam eventually picked out his allocated five titles. The first four were pretty much the kind of fare I expected, given his preference for exotic critters:
- Alligators and Crocodiles
- Australian Animals
- Animal Dads
- Nights of the Pufflings (Note: This book makes me cry.)
Someone hold me. Please?