We bought D2 matchbox cars for Christmas. These are, of course, Not For Children Under Three, but we both have many years of experience in large and destructive families, and we've never seen a wheel come off.
He was reasonably pleased at Christmas. But in the intervening months, moderate pleasure has developed into an obsession. To wash his hands, one must first pry three cars out of his grip. He wants to take them to bed. To dinner. To church.
The library is giving out prizes for every five books you read (an easy target indeed!) and he selected his first prize this week. Naturally, it was another car. Another purple car. (D1 got a bathtub alligator, and spent all her time at home trying to wheedle D2 out of his car.)
He has names for all his favorite cars: purple car, blue car, gray car, taxi. (It's not a taxi. It's a gray truck.) He asks for them, and woe betide if you can't find that particular one. This morning B6, who is visiting, was trying to catechise him on the makes and models.
Naturally he likes to watch cars, and trains, and myklecycles, but the one thing that will completely absorb him--that pastes that dangerous Mr. Toad expression on his face and renders him oblivious to all parental words--is a skateboard.
I haven't even told him what it is called yet. I don't want him getting any ideas.