momma crab's tail

it's been a dreary few days.
we've done all there is to do within the 3 windowless walls of our condo.
including (but not limited to)...
pyramid-type constructed forts
monet-esque water paint masterpieces
enough baseball practice to join the phillies farm team
a perfected 3 year old tennis swing that i like to call a protege of perfection
and countless couch cushion high-jump/twirly-bird/wreckless-abandon type maneuvers.
though i long for sunshine, our hermit-like stature has forced us to be creative, something that us henricks have always prided ourselves in.

we spent most of our morning pretending.
it gets a little interesting when the mind of my 3 year old is involved.
the same items interchange constantly and shift from one fictitious character to the next without warning.

scenario:
foster announces that we are a family of penguins diving in the ocean, searching for fish. we pounce into action.
(ok, foster and i pounce while rowan was still trying to figure out what was going on).
we dive onto a mound of floored couch cushions, and whilst we search for "fish" foster makes a starteling discovery: a baby penguin (played by his monkey) has fallen into the water, but does not know how to swim. a large amount of commotion erupts as foster bravely rescues the baby penguin (played by his monkey) in dramatic fashion. a lot of "oh, my... poor little penguin." statements are heard. "look, he's so small! here, hold him mommy! be gentle! he's little."

(i like how he always tells me to be gentle. as if i am going to knock his penguin/monkey up-side-the-head at any moment.)

we proceed to cuddle the penguin/monkey and insure his well-being. our play is interrupted slightly when rowan jumps on the mound of cushions and accidentally steps on foster's blue blanket, which had miraculously transformed into a large pile of wood.
"don't step on the wood rowan!!!! it's too dange'rous! you can't step on wood. you have to carry it!"
the stack of "wood" is safely removed from rowan's footed grasp and we resume play.

i ask if the baby penguin was feeling ok.
the response shows the fictitious character switch:
"no, it's not a penguin, it's a baby crab."

"oh, ok." i said correctively, "what a cute baby crab you have!"

foster responds with, "look, here's his mama!" (pointing down to his blue blanket high atop the large pile of cushions we are currently sitting on). as he climbs to the top and sits on the mama crab (blue blanket) he says, "she's really nice. she's very kind. i love her."

(i'm quite pleased with his idea of a nice and kind mama, whom he loves. makes me think he is really talking about me :)
i say sweetly, "oh, i'm glad she is so kind! we love being kind! is rowan one of her babies??"

as if i should have known, foster says "no, he's a little old crab. he's old."

ok, interesting, i think to myself. "if your monkey is a baby crab, and your blue blanket is the mommy crab, and rowan is a little old crab, then who is mommy?"

"you sit over there..." (pointing to a distant couch cushion) "on the momma crab's tail."

banished to the tail of a fictitious momma crab's tail. such is life :)