Somewhere between obsession and addiction lies my son's affection for sharks. We thought it was just Sharkie, his own little stuffed shark, that he loved so much. He asks for it whenever we're in his room, he can't go to sleep without it, and even Abby understands and respects its ownership.
But we've come to find out that our gifting of the stuffed shark has cultivated some sort of odd affection for Great Whites. So I was none too surprised when Caleb darted away from me during storytime at the library for a front row seat during the "Baby Shark" song. There he was, front and center, clapping along and chanting "duh-duh" with all the two-year-olds as the librarian playfully snapped at him with her stuffed shark puppet. Later he stood up to get closer, ignorant of her pleas for him to sit down so the other kids could see.
I hung back and let him enjoy the moment. He seemed a bit confused when the librarian, instead of handing him the shark, tucked it away behind the felt board.
"Duh-duh?" I heard him ask, then watched with joy as he did his sign for please (a hand flapping gesture that I don't expect other adults to understand).
I intervened before he darted behind the board to retrieve the shark for himself. Together, we waved goodbye to the shark as I explained that when it was naptime he could have Sharkie back.
I shudder to think what will happen if we ever misplace this toy.
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