Carson has recently developed a deep, close, personal relationship with a monkey. His name is Elvis. (Named after the monkey that lives at a local burger place here in McMinnville, not the more obvious namesake.) Carson’s attachment came from a simple game we were playing one night just after Christmas where Carson wanted us to wrap toys up in blankets, pillow cases, whatever and give him so he could pretend it was Christmas again. One of the toys I grabbed was a stuffed monkey that had been hanging around the house for years (no idea where it came from – anyone want to take credit??) and Carson has never put him down since.

Although we’ve convinced him Elvis doesn’t need to go inside places, the much-loved monkey rides along in the van nearly everywhere we go. On school days he comes inside, says hello to all of my coworkers and then Carson wraps him up in a blanket and puts him to bed on the chair in my office. Frequently I have to promise to go buy him a banana at lunch and, even more frequently, he asks one of my co-workers if they will stop by and check on Elvis throughout the day. It’s a running game to guess who the designated Elvis-checker will be each day. (Deb is winning at the moment!)

At home Elvis needs a song and a kiss at bedtime, right along with the boys. He joins us for dinner and has been known to jump in the bathtub when mom’s not looking, but has been chastised by Carson for trying to go with him into the bathroom. (“You don’t watch people go potty, Elvis!”)

We’ve enjoyed watching the “relationship” develop, which really involves Carson learning how to nurture and take care of some”one” else. Elvis has been a fabulous addition to our family – I for one will be sad on the day Carson doesn’t want him to come along.