George has been preoccupied with pineapples lately. About two weeks ago, when we were driving home from somewhere, he suddenly announced that he wanted to go to the store. He wouldn’t tell us which store he wanted to visit or what he wanted to buy there, but he did start giving us directions in the form of pointing and saying “this way that way” in his sweet lyrical voice. We were curious to see where this was going to lead, so we followed his directions and ended up parked outside our regular grocery store. As soon as we walked in, George ran to the fresh produce section and picked out a pineapple. Gerard and I looked at each other, shrugged, and paid for the pineapple.

George spent the remainder of that afternoon proudly carrying his pineapple around.  He was beaming from ear to ear as if he’d won the lottery. The following day he wanted the pineapple cut up. Thinking he wanted to eat some, I obliged, but all he wanted was the spiky leafy bit at the top. That was his prized possession for the next three days. He kept walking up to family members to see how the pineapple top would look on top of their heads. This gave him endless giggles.

A week passed, the pineapple top eventually got discarded, and all of us thought the moment had passed. But then there were demands for another trip to the grocery store. As before, George acquired a pineapple, but this time he had definite plans for it. As soon as we got home, he put the pineapple down on a table and started rooting around in his box of Mr. Potato Head parts.  Five minutes later, the transformation was complete. Plain Old Pineapple had morphed into Mr. Pineapple Head. It had a full complement of facial features, two arms, and a pair of shoes.  The hair, obviously, was built-in.

This was so cool! The kid made a plan! He was immensely proud of his creation, and rightfully so.

George and Mr. Pineapple Head

The following day, I was lying on the couch watching some meaningless show on TV. George was sitting beside me admiring Mr. Pineapple Head, who was occupying pride of place on the coffee table.  All of a sudden, he turned to me with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and proclaimed, “Mommy is a pineapple!”

The air filled with the sound of his glorious laughter, and I bathed in the feeling that this perfect mother-and-son moment gave me.