Elliot, these days, is prone to worry. About the lion, as well as other things. Partly he is worried about this concept "worrying." What is that? What do you do about it?
I don't mean to give the impression that he's not also his normal cheerful little self. Right now he's giggling and looking at pictures of "pooh bear" and rabbit and running around. All is well and good.
But then there are these moments. Like this morning, we were both sitting cross legged on the coffee table reading the new yorker (there's some backstory that explains why that's this is a reasonable thing to do; just trust me). Elliot was pondering the nuances of the cover pictured above. After some assessment, Elliot determined that the man was going to "fall in water." I'm not sure where that came from, but I conceeded that that was basically right, but that there was a ladder. "for climbing!" Yes, Elliot, for climbing; after the man falls into the hole, there will be a ladder for him to climb out. So don't worry! It's okay!
Elliot was non-plussed. "Laddar?" he queried. "Laddar?" Then he threw the magazine on the ground discontentedly and said, "man fall. Man fall DOWN."
So it's just Elliot and everyone, being all "laddar? laddar?" and all us moms here saying to all those men standing over those holes: put down your cell-phones, you fools you fools, and start paying attention to the warnings, the worries, of my small child.
A more cheerful postscript: I seriously was just pondering that last sentence there when out of the blue Elliot wandered over and said, real cheerful like, "fist-bump, mama! Fist-bump!" So we had a "yes we can" sort of fist bump, which is not to make this all pro-Obama (totally not the point), but just a reminder that life is fine in lots of incarnations, with lots of fist-bumpy laddars in it, probably, after all.