Styrofoam

I don't think H's grandmother had any idea that a box packed full of styrofoam peanuts would have quite this effect on TD or our house. (Pardon the poor video quality, it was dark, it was my phone.)



Later, she was absolutely convinced that there was one special styrofoam peanut that was her new best friend. Then, she lost him. Yes, it was a him. When I tried to humor her and look for "him" with her I began to wonder if she was messing with me.

V: What does your best friend look like?

TD: He's green and small.

V: Right. Green and small. Anything else?

TD: He can sit up.

Impressive.

I glanced at H across the room who was trying to stifle a laugh as he swept up the sea of peanuts laying waste to our floor. I mouthed, "I think she is fucking with me."

Twenty minutes later she was still mourning the loss of her best friend, styrofoam peanut. He was a good friend. He was green. He was little. And he could sit up. What a guy.