Swing like a monkey

My son’s imagination captivates me. It never stops. He’s one of those kids that really engages with it – whether he’s playing with toys or telling stories. This morning, he decided I was a stegosaurus and he was a T Rex (T Rex Jake comes out a lot) and chased me down the day care hallway, pretending to bite me. The teachers and other parents were all getting a chuckle out of it, but for us, it was just another day in Jake’s world. Some days he’s a baby gorilla, other days a cat, and then, of course, the ever so popular dog. We play along like the good parents we are.

Last night topped it, though. He’d been in the bath (coincidentally playing with his T Rex named Bite and his stegosaurus, who doesn’t have a name) for a good 35 minutes. I could see he was turning into a prune and was trying to get him out.

“Mama, go get me a vine so I can swing like a monkey, and I’ll get out”

An interesting take on negotiating, if I do say so myself. Ummmm….no. For multiple reasons, the least of which being that I don’t own a vine, and if I did, I have no hardware installed to hook it up.

“But I can’t get out until I can swing like a monkey on a vine. You have to go do that.”

It’s 6:30, it’s been a long Sunday, and I’m negotiating over a monkey vine. Fabulous.

“OK, mama, if you don’t have one, then leave the room while I get out.”

Odd request, but ok. So I step just outside the door. A few seconds goes by and he comes out. I go back in to clean out the tub, and what do I see? My towel rack pulled out from the wall. Even drywall screws can’t withstand the force of a 35 pound monkey…

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