Now that Thomas is three he has started becoming a real boy. As much as I have tried to (gently) discourage it, he is into wrestling and fighting and pirates and anything requiring loud noises. Buzz and Woody are in a perpetual war with Zurg (you’ll have to look that one up) and poor Slinky Dog is going to be stretched beyond recognition if he continues to act as a bungy cord. And thanks to a new interest in matchbox cars, I get a nervous tic every time I hear the sound of metal on hardwood floors.

I dream of dolls and pretty pink, soft things that are quiet and dainty.

I’m learning to deal with it.

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