"Goodbye, yellow ball!" said Beza when she was just starting to put words together.
We all laughed and cheered. How clever! What a fun thing to say!
A year later some among us don't find it quite so charming anymore.
Every day, the same scene. We climb into the van. We back out of the garage. Beza shouts her repeated farewells to the yellow ball. The firstborn bristles. Why does she have to say it every day? It isn't even alive!
Coming home we pull back in the driveway. I cringe as the garage door slowly rises. The yellow ball. A look in the review mirror shows the little one first glancing at the biggest one, getting a twinkle in her eye. "Hi, yellow ball!"
What to do? Ask the littlest to stop addressing the yellow ball? I've tried it. At the first request she just says it a bit more quietly. After the second request she mumbles it under her breath. The rule-following sister totally knows what's going on. She's still talking to the ball.
I've brainstormed with the oldest. Just ignore it. It's just a ball. How fun that she greets a ball? But, really, she's just saying it because it makes you upset. That's the best part of the yellow ball. Maybe join the fun? You could start talking to the ball, too!
The yellow-ball salutations continue while the big sister convincingly ignores. But in a battle of nearly matching wills, the most persistent youngest wins.
"Ahh! Stop saying 'hello' to the yellow ball!"
From car seat number three--gleaming eyes--sweet success.
Watching Sesame Street wearing Daddy's hat.
(The yellow ball was away for a bit earlier this year. Instead of conversing with the ball, its whereabouts were daily questioned. The yellow ball will not easily be forgotten. :)
Oh, yellow ball, who knew that you would be the object of so much dissention?