This morning at the grocery store The Babe wanted to hold a block of butter that I was buying. So I let him. "What's the harm?" I thought. "We're almost done. I'll get it back from him when we check out." Only I forgot to get it back from him when we checked out. I was putting things into the bottom of his cart when I noticed he was still clutching it in his little hands. He was clearly attached.
"Oh, crap. Now I'm going to have to take it away from him for a minute and there will be screaming," I thought. I swear, for a split second I debated walking out with it. Then I felt like a terrible mother for even thinking about stealing just to avoid a tantrum. The guilt washed over me like a cold hard rain as I pried it from his fingers. I tried to explain that we needed to pay for it and that I would give it right back but I'm pretty sure he totally misunderstood me because he started screaming his head off. I payed for it as quickly as I could while a nice Danish man, who found this all very amusing, tried to calm The Babe by talking to him. It did not help. Transaction done, I handed the butter over to the kid and the screaming stopped.
At home I could tell that The Babe was more than just infatuated with his stick o' butter. He wouldn't let go of it to take off his coat. He wouldn't put it down for a snack. When he crawled into bed to take a nap with it, I knew it was love.
My kid is weird. Awesome. But weird.