What if you never learned the difference between pretending and reality?
Then you’d be two.
Boo and I had this conversation today after she watched the “Dinner” Sesame Street podcast and its featurette “Guess What We’re Having For Dinner,” in which a typical middle-class family must face its anti-rutabaga prejudice. (The Spencer Tracy role is taken by the Roman-nosed Sesame Street weatherman. Sidney Poitier is, well, a rutabaga.)
Boo: “Daddy, what are we having for dinner?”
Doodaddy: “Since you ask, bratwurst and beans and chipotle potato salad.” (Please, be impressed: we’ve started doing weekly meal planning after CityMama’s brilliant example.)
Boo: “Can we have rutabaga?”
Doodaddy (thinking — that’s a vegetable, right?): “Um, sure.”
Boo: “Can I have some rutabaga now?”
Doodaddy: “Um, I just used it up this morning. We’ll have to go to the store first.”
Boo: “Let’s buy the faceless rutabaga.”
Usually, Boo knows when she’s pretending, and doesn’t eat, say, the “pretend” green beans that are actually blanket fringe. But in this case, she had a completely straight face, leaving me with this question:
Was she joking?
Not to mention:
Where’d she learn the word ‘faceless’?
I conclude that for Boo, “pretend” and “real” aren’t exactly the same right now, but they do overlap massively. And that’s kind of neat.