I Got These Sacks Part II

Later that same day, Finny was still clutching his two plastic dolls at lunch time. I pried them out of his fingers for his morning nap, but as soon as he awoke, he quickly captured them again. He drove with them in the car to the park. He carried them around the grocery store. And finally, he was confronted with a dilemma when I sat him in his high chair and sitting before him was a tray full of food. It was then that the anxiety set in.

"But Mom, how am I...? I mean how can I possibly...?"

He was confounded. Food. He wanted to eat. But to let go of the dolls would be simply unheard of. So I watched on, amused, as he finally decided to briefly set one down so that he could put a peach in his mouth and then quickly retrieve the doll again for fear of the imbalance that was immediately created by clutching something in only one hand.

Then, he realized I had tricked him.

"Peaches?! I dropped the doll for a peach?! Blast! Where is the real food?"

Then I showered his tray with bites of peanut butter toast and the dolls were released, but only temporarily. I watched as he would pop a peanut butter bite in his mouth and then clutch a doll. Bite. Bite. Clutch. Bite. Bite. Clutch.

The dolls seemed to be silently pleading with me. Covered with peanut butter from head to toe, I could see them begging with their eyes, "Please!" they pleaded, "Get us away from this mad man!"

And so I pulled out the secret weapon--Milk.

"Free at last!" they shouted, "Free at last! Good God Almighty, we're free at last!"

(The fact that he happened to be clutching the black dolls is purely coincidental. Finny does not discriminate against plastic objects. He holds them all captive regardless of shape, size, age, gender, gender preference, religion or color.)