We were visiting with my mother-in-law this weekend. She was cleaning out her dad's house and giving us all kinds of stuff; some really very cool stuff and some things that I really didn't think I could find a spot for in my house.
The ceramic bison was one of those things. Not awful, just not my taste. Small, about 9 inches tall, and heavy. Something that belonged to my husband's Aunt Edie. Did we want it? Ummmm, no. Don't really have a spot for it.
And then Carter saw it and you could practically hear the music playing in his head (you know, the music they play during Summer's Eve commercials with the girl dancing in the grass? Happy, carefree music.). He stared and then crawled full-speed ahead. Stopped in front of it, laughed, pointed, and signed "dog". Over and over and over again. "Dog". Then he turned around and smiled at me.
Yes! Dog! Good job, Carter!
We now have a ceramic bison....on the kitchen counter. Off to find a spot for it.
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