After I hurt my ankle this fall, Ari took to engaging in imaginative play that involved Cletus and Roscoe (the goats he adores from Oregon Dairy) while hanging out on my bed. We’d take pretend trips to the grocery store. Cletus and Roscoe would take turns driving us there in their shuttle van. (Because all goats drive people around in shuttle vans, of course.)
I don’t know what made Ari think of this a couple of nights ago, but he wanted to “play Cletus and Roscoe” again. This time, Cletus and Roscoe were going to drive us on a road trip. Ari told me I needed to book four hotel rooms: one for the four of us + his three puppies, one for my parents, one for my in-laws, and one — wait for it — for Cletus and Roscoe.
“Cletus and Roscoe get their own room?!”
“Yes!” he declared.
“One king bed or two double bed?” I asked Ari.
“Two doubles,” he replied.
“What if the hotel has two queens. Will each goat sleep in a queen size bed?” I inquired.
“Yes, they will,” Ari replied matter-of-factly.
After a couple of days of me pretending to book hotel rooms, Ari decided to book four hotel rooms for us, both sets of his grandparents, and his goats when we were playing earlier this evening.
“Did you remember to book adjoining rooms?” I asked.
“Hold on,” he told me. Ari put his playing card phone back up to his ear and bellowed “We’d like ad-joind-ing rooms please!”
He paused. A moment later, Ari proceeded to give the pretend reservations agent a credit card number. He listed way more than a sixteen digit card number, in the most random clustering of numbers, which made me laugh aloud. It was exactly the levity I needed today.