Wipeout

One of my favorite things to do as a child of five was to hoist my "husky" baby brother into my arms, spin him around for as long as I could keep hold of him and then watch him fall down as he tried to walk away. He liked the game too, spinning is fun after all. Eventually though, he learned to sit down and wait out the after effects of the spinning before trying to walk. The game lost a lot of it's allure that day.
A package came today. In it were new jammies for the children from their grandma.
Enzo got Lighting McQueens. He has never seen the film "Cars" he does not know who Lightning McQueen is. He does know he loves those jammies.
He carried them around the house until dinner time. After dinner he put them on and admired all of the instances of Lightning McQueen on his sweet new sleep wear, pointing to each one.
First he admired the big one on his tummy, then he admired a Lightning on his knee. I'm not sure how, but next he caught site of the McQueen square on his bottom. He pointed to it and exclaimed "CAR!" with no less enthusiasm than he'd given the first. As he twisted to his right, contorting to get a better view of the hiney car he glimpsed yet another, this one on the back of his left calf, and exclaimed again.

 

I watched, waiting for him to point to this newly discovered car. With the speed and excitement he'd been putting into this pointing and exclaiming exercise I expected something big. A backward somersault, a teetering fall, a tail chasing situation.
I got none of it.
His sister burst into the room at just that moment, distracted him and he ran off. He didn't even stumble.
Darn
I might have taken him for a spin right then and there to get my fix but at two and a half he's too well balanced to tumble down dizzy. If I'd started I'd have been stuck twirling children all night long. None of whom would have fallen hilariously over to reward me for my trouble.
It's a hard knock life, ya know?