Wonderful World of Wildebeests

My six-year-old son, Sweet Potato, has the gift of imagination.  He appoints roles, personalities, and functions to ordinary objects.  This is truly a gift given his challenges.  My husband, Mr. Baseball, and I both celebrate his creativity and find ourselves frustrated with the pervasiveness of this quality.

Sweet Potato received a souvenirs from Kenya from some family members.  He has always had a fascination with Africa because he believes Africa has the best selection of animals.  A buddy of his in Kindergarten told him that "everyone in Africa is brown", so he thinks that's something of a sign.  Finally, he has seen a video of an African tribe, shirtless, wearing celebratory garb and he thinks that if he goes to Africa he can be naked as much as he wants to be.

Since receiving the goodies from Kenya, his obsession with wildebeest migration has returned.  He requests to spend all screen time watching two British documentaries on migration of the wildebeest on the Serengeti Plains.  He is speaking about animals with an English accent, even referring to zebras as "zebbras".

Years ago, Sweet Potato used spoons as wildebeests in our kitchen.  The spoons began as evenly spaced, methodical animals. The were all oriented accordingly, handles pointing toward the oven.  However, as my husband and I walked through the kitchen, they slid, pinged on the fridge and stove, and faced different directions.  It was as if a lion had been hunting.  Sweet Potato would yell, "No!  You messed it up!"

Yesterday, he started using his Lincoln Logs as wildebeests on the wood floor.  I am relieved that I don't have to wash spoons constantly, however, this is not without its challenges.  The Lincoln Logs are the same color as the wood floor.  We step on them.  All. The. Time.  The pain isn't as severe as LEGO-stepping pain, but the cylindrical shape adds an element of danger.  We have had some near-misses, but no one has hit the floor...yet.

We know that anxiety about starting first grade, a new teacher, and a schedule change are mounting.  The wildebeests have an important role, which is to occupy his mind while he adjusts.  We are hoping this phase is like visiting in-laws; you're happy to see them come and happy to see them leave.

With the return of the wildebeests, there has been one side effect bothering me.  I am prone to earworms and spoken languages.  I spontaneously sing bars from songs. I adopted a Southern accent soon after my relocation from the upper midwest.  When I was learning Spanish, native speakers often complimented me on my diction.  My "talent", unfortunately, is also manifested in animal noises.  I trip over Lincoln Logs and bellow "MMM...uuuh. grunt, snort."  Mr. Baseball is hard-of-hearing, so all he has to do is turn down his hearing aids.  Sweet Potato finally said, "Mama, is that stuck in your brain?"

"Yes, honey."

"Mama, you need a good brain like mine.  Then that won't bother you."

And there you have it, good self esteem and theory of mind, hand-in-hand.