The trouble with beavers is that little kids think they’re cute, the stuffed ones that is. And one of those cute little stuffed beavers almost got me into trouble yesterday.
Let me start from the beginning. Benjamin has suddenly developed a love for the library. Could it be that he loves being surrounded by books? Or could it be that he loves that there is space specifically designed for little kids where the only rule that your mom keeps whispering is, “Ben, use your inside voice please?” Or could it be because the library has all these puppets that look like stuffed animals? I vote for a combination of all three--he loves the books, the uninhibited space, and especially the puppets that look like stuffed animals.
Yesterday after allowing Benjamin to play with all the puppets while I found some good books for him, and after sitting down in a cozy spot and reading some of the books to him and several of his new stuffed friends, I convinced Benjamin that it was time to go. But first, we had to put the animals back in their proper places. This duty went well until Ben decided he wanted to keep the beaver.
“The beaver has to stay,” I told him. But Benjamin just held the beaver cradled in his arms and stared at me pitifully.
“Okay,” I relented, “you can take the beaver.” So we checked out Mr. Beaver along with our books, and we get to keep him for seven days. Hooray! Now he’ll get lost somewhere like the rest of the stuffed animals, and I’ll have to pay the library to replace him. But I was soon to find out that the fear of replacing the beaver was the least of my troubles that day.
Since Benjamin was still in a good mood, I decided I could make a quick run to Kroger, the only grocery store I allow myself to take him because they have shopping carts shaped like little cars. But when we get to Kroger, Benjamin wants to take Mr. Beaver in too, and that’s where I draw the line. Benjamin has a habit of dropping things, I think purposely, while we’re in the store. Many toys have been left behind in Kroger and Wal-Mart. The toys from the Toy Story movie would be ashamed of us.
“The beaver stays in the car,” I told him.
But Benjamin climbs out of the car, beaver in hand. I kindly take Mr. Beaver and put him back in the car and we
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