Soapbox

So I’ve got this kid…and we have a new dog who, being new, likes to chew. He has chewed furniture and the legs of the picnic table, and even wood from the firewood pile. (Clearly he has an identity crisis and thinks that he is a beaver.)
     A few days ago, he got into Katie’s room and chewed up a little plastic bear she calls "Little-bear Wink". He mangled one hand, tore off his clothes and chewed both legs off at the knees. Surprisingly, Katie wasn’t all that upset when she discovered it.
    She looked at the bear for a minute, and then said, "Oh well, we can pretend that he was in the Civil War and got his legs shot off. Hand me the rocking chair from the dollhouse Stephen, and we’ll pretend that it’s his wheelchair."
    And so Little Bear Wink became Uncle Beary who was wounded in the war and lives in the attic of the dollhouse. I was quite impressed, if puzzled, by her inventiveness.
    Today we found that Dr. Barbie had also undergone radical doggie-surgery on her leg.  (Not a tragedy in my eyes, truthfully.)
     So Stephen said, "Well, maybe she was hurt in an accident and we can make an artificial leg or something.." but Katie had had enough.
      "No, Stephen, we have enough toys without legs. I think I just need a new Doctor Barbie.
    Which proves that timing, indeed, is everything.