Some of my fondest memories of childhood involve a pretend game in which I forced Meg to be my “baby” sister while I was her appointed guardian/rock star named Cyndi. I made little beds for her so she could nap while I stood on the window seat and belted out tunes from my grandmother’s Reader’s Digest compilations.
Carter and Archie have recently started a similar game– they call it “I’m baby and you’re big brother and Mommy’s the babysitter.” We were setting up the boys’ room for it the other day and Archie had a request.
Archie: (climbing into a laundry basket) Let’s pretend this is my cage!
Me: Your cage? What kind of people are we that we keep our baby in a cage?
Archie: All babies have cages, Mommy. I need a cage.
Me: A baby cage?
Archie: The cages babies have that are up off the ground. They can sleep there.
Me and Carter: (getting it at the same time) A crib?
Archie: (not letting go of his terms) Yes. A crib cage. I want one of those.
They spent the next hour or so with Archie in a laundry basket, covered in baby blankets, Carter with a leash attached to the basket and then around his waist, pulling him through the house like my own little Clydesdale.
