Birthday loot bags excite me. Each bag takes a stab at the question, "What can entertain a kid enough to let parents squeeze in a tiny break after they've gone home from our party?" Did I say break? I meant chore. Bunky was finally old enough to look into his loot bag and his delight quickly overshadowed mine. He shook the tiny tambourine long enough for me to grab the candy and hide it. He pulled out the raccoon beanie baby and gave it a kiss. This is the first time he showed affection for a stuffed toy. I was beyond thrilled. It was such a cute moment, I gave the toy a surname.
Bumparoos, meet Ricky Coon.
I'm guessing Bunky used this "Awww" moment and my enthusiasm to figure out that affection makes me happy and might work in his favor. Ever since this meet and sweet greet with Ricky Coon, he's been kissing me in exchange for snacks, playtime, and that arduous climb down the stairs that I've been watching him master.
Letting him perfect his skills will always be bittersweet. But I'm not anxious to potty train just yet. I found giving him toys while I change his diaper prevents him from checking out what's going on down there. But I have a separate set of toys for that. First was Poopie Bunny with her soft texture, then Poopie Fish with her lights and sounds. My mom recently brought home this third installment in the Poopie Toy series. He's bright, rubbery, and slow-looking. Thank goodness, because his spikes might make you run. At least you'll get a head start.
May I present, Poopie Fish II
(Bumparoos' version is the bathroom reading material)
There you have it, Bumparoos. A soon to be classic little tale of love and distraction.
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