It's not a Lemon, it's a Pickle

Rascal loves cars. It's all he thinks about, the only game he'll play. He lines them up end to end and if you mess with his road, you need to head for cover.

I put out some pickles for supper a few nights ago. Rascal looked at them for a long time.

"Carcar?" He stuck one in his mouth. "No carcar."

Oh well, what's a boy to do? He grabbed it in his fat little hand and trotted back to his road.

Later as I was washing dishes, he came in with tears in his eyes yelling about his carcar. He only has about 700 carcars, so I sifted through the whole box. None that I produced satisfied him.

Eventually Husband looked up from his Blackberry, wondering what all the commotion was about. He looked beside the couch and found Rascal's huge Tonka 4X4.

"Carcar!" Rascal shrieked. He ran over, yanked the truck away and dug in the driver's seat. He held the pickle aloft.

"Carcar, carcar, carcar, CARCAR!"

Okee dokee. So now everything could be a carcar I suppose.

The next day he was still driving the pickle, now covered in a fine layer of carpet lint and other unsavory items. Since then I have seen him drive Goldfish (the snack), pens, and a "Littlest Pet Shop" toy Tweenie got in a Happy Meal.

Kids are weird... but in a good way!