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Topic : In Search Of Elmo by: Jennifer Gove My son is a wonderful boy, an imaginative, active four year old with a set of rules for life all his own. The rules that keep his four year old views in his perspective, the rules to - mncguru.com Mobile app version of mncguru.com
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: In Search Of Elmo by: Jennifer Gove My son is a wonderful boy, an imaginative, active four year old with a set of rules for life all his own. The rules that keep his four year old views in his perspective, the rules to

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Posted in: #Parenting #Elmo #Owen #Bed #Rules #Son #Four-Year-Old #Year-Old #Jennifer #Four #Year #Four-Year #Lost

In Search Of Elmo

by: Jennifer Gove


My son is a wonderful boy, an imaginative, active four year old with a set of rules for life all his own. The rules that keep his four year old views in his perspective, the rules to life that make him, his own person.
One of his “rules” is that his Elmo doll must go to bed with him each night. Sounds simple right? If you are the mother of a child like mine you are snickering under your breath because you know…..one rule has many others attached to it. These rules leave me each night in search of that ratty red little Elmo doll that my son so dearly loves.
Elmo really gets around for a doll…
Elmo attends Owens breakfast, perched in front of what ever cartoon tends to be blaring at that moment. Together they share a bowl of cereal as in, Owen spills it on the floor and uses poor Elmo to wipe up any milk. I have learned never to ask Owen why he spilt his cereal …because in his four year old world, Elmo did it never Owen!
At the market Elmo rides in the cart with Owen, of course Elmo can not stay in the cart. He jumps out at least 20 times but it is a rule I must not know this until he is three isles away or until some woman in business attire gingerly walks up with Elmo in hand and hands him off to me like a disease , and quickly walks away…most likely searching her purse for a Clorox wipe .
The best game Elmo likes to play is bed time hide and seek. Owen perches on the edge of the bed, howling like a mad man who’s lost his best friend. So I franticly rip threw the house leaving no stone, couch or toy box unturned, run our into the darkness to the car tossing aside coats snack wrappers and other lost beloved lost toys. Back to the house checking the dryer, behind the toilet. Frazzled, I return to the bed room to give my son the dreaded news that Elmo is gone.
There he is, my sweet little boy with his rosy angelical face, hugging his Elmo. For a moment I swear that Elmo is smiling as if to say “I was here all along”
© 2004-2005 Jennifer Gove


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