Fun with Mascots

What do you do at a charity event when you’re two years old and you have no idea what the phrase “help cancer patients” means? If you’re my daughter, Belle, you fixate on the mascots—like Bucky Badger of the University of Wisconsin.

Bucky joined us for the American Cancer Society’s Run/Walk event. Belle was a bit bipolar in her view of Bucky; she’d giggle and run up to him—then stop cold and run away screaming bloody murder. Apparently Bucky's "good from far, but far from good."

Maybe Bucky forgot to shower? I told Bucky that was OK; after all, it’s a run/walk. Who showers before a run/walk?

After 30 minutes, she finally gets the courage to declare, “I give Bucky a hug!” I really think she's going to do it this time. She's three feet of determination.

As she’s running up to Bucky, a sixth-grade boy hands the mascot a Frisbee and Bucky motions him to go long. The next few seconds went like this:

1) Bucky throws the Frisbee.
2) Boy turns like a dog after Frisbee.
3) Boy flattens Belle onto pavement. She’s fine, thanks to a cushy hood on her jacket. But for the rest of the event, she was either sobbing or mumbling something that sounded a bit like “restraining order for Bucky.”

Five Star Behavior
Belle is getting closer to being three and her behavior is improving. For example, she kisses her baby brother, Johnny. She says “please." Like, “Daddy, may I play with that knife, please?”

“Ah, no,” I say.

“But Daaaadddyyyyy…”

The other day she uses her trainer potty and my wife and I excitedly clap for her. I feel a tad manipulative doing this, like a tobacco marketer, but she’s not going to die by using a trainer potty. (Although the second-hand aroma often seems harmful...) Plus I’d hate for her to still be in Pampers at the prom.

So we’re clapping about Belle's use of the potty. Belle’s excited; she looks at her stuffed animal and says earnestly, “Daddy, can Kitty clap for me?”

“Yes, she’s clapping,” I say, starting to fix a sandwich.

“Daddy, can you pick Kitty up and clap her hands for me?” OK, so Belle’s still a diva. But at least she’s a polite diva. That’s progress. Hey, does Britney Spears say please when she asks her dog to clap for her?

So by those standards, Belle's polite. The other day, she toots and says, “What’s my noise?”

“Sounds like a toot,” I say.

“Yep, I tooted,” she admits. “Excuse me!”

See? Polite.

Then I turn on American Idol—or as Belle calls it, “Singing Boys and Singing Girls.” We watch a few contestants and she’s not impressed.

Then a hunky contestant named Blake performs.

“Daddy, who’s THAT singing boy?”

“That’s Blake,” I say nervously.

“Yeah, that’s Blake, Daddy," she says, entranced. "That’s BLAKE!” Maybe Pampers at the prom isn’t such a bad idea.

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2007. All rights reserved.