Turtle Baby

There is no accounting for love.  It strikes unexpectedly and doesn’t follow rules or conventions.  During an IKEA outing several weeks ago, Number Two was getting fussy, what with the endless turns into rooms full of lamps, reasonably-priced kitchenware, and picture frames of vaguely hip but forgettable B&W photos of Manhattan bridges.  He wanted something for himself.  Then his eyes alighted on a little doll with cute brown eyes and curly hair.  He has never in his life wanted or played with a doll and is only one sliver above ambivalent about the stuffies in his crib.  But this was love right out of the gate.  This doll came home with us and has been a fixture in Number Two’s life ever since.  In the crib, at the dinner table, out on walks, the doll is there.  At first there was some confusion about the doll’s gender.  “I love your doll, is it a girl or boy?” I asked him as I was leaving his room at nap time.  Long pause.  “Girl.”  Just as I was shutting the door he yelled out, “Boy.  BOY!”  Okay, so he’s a boy.  What’s his name?  Turtle Baby.  Of this he was sure.  Maybe it’s because he has a turtle in his crib already that makes star lights so naturally this baby was related to the turtle?  Whatever the genesis story, Turtle Baby is here now.  He gets a blankie put on him, sits at the table during breakfast, and gets to ride in the mini shopping cart on outings.  Say hello to Turtle Baby.

About Peter Soutowood

Writer, architect, father, husband.