night, night, skeleton

I suppose it's probably a common feature of four-year-olds that they're all a little weird. I tend to think of Ian as uniquely weird, but then, he's the only four-year-old I spend much time with.

A few months ago, he latched onto a new best friend. A girl his age might have a favorite doll; a boy might have a stuffed animal or action figure. Ian has "Skeleton." He was invited a while back to an Egyptian-themed birthday party and came away with a couple of little, rubber skeletons. Somewhere along the line, he decided they needed taking care of. It's not unusual for him to take one in the car and insist on buckling it into its own seatbelt. He also puts it to bed when he's getting ready to take a nap or go to sleep for the night. Ian doesn't sleep with toys, so Skeleton goes to bed in our room.

Last night, we didn't notice when he put Skeleton to bed, but Julie found him when we came into the room later on:


Not only does Skeleton need to be tucked in under the sheet (of course), but since Ian now insists on going to bed with a tissue handy, Skeleton needs one too.

We scheduled a tour at the hospital that's supposed to prepare siblings for the arrival of their new baby brother or sister. It said he should bring along a stuffed animal, so he can practice holding the baby. I suggested to Julie that we bring Skeleton, but I guess he probably is too small to serve the intended purpose.

Lest I close this post without making some connection to Orthodoxy, here's part of a funeral hymn, by St. John of Damascus, of all people (currently the prime candidate for Ian's patron):

I called to mind the Prophet, how he cried: I am earth and ashes;
and I looked again into the graves, and beheld the bones laid bare;
and I said: Who then is the king or the warrior,
the rich man or the needy, the upright or the sinner?
Yet give rest with thy Saints unto thy servant, O Lord.