Rescue Me
For a little better than a week now, we've had a police helicopter taking center stage in our living room. But I must correct myself. For the first half of the week, it was a police boat; it morphed when a particular rescue called for hoisting capabilities, and it hasn't looked back.
The body of the helicopter is our overstuffed armchair, and it has many accessories. On one arm sits a white stuffed animal in a shoebox-sized bin; this is the police dog in its kennel. On the other arm is an art set-turned-first-aid kit-turned-police computer (it flips open and closed just like Mommy's laptop!). The seat holds a box containing Band-Aids, a walkie-talkie, a couple of Ace bandages used as seat belts or rapelling cables, and a long stick with a ribbon tied to the top of it (not sure what that is).
On the floor in front of the chair lies the yellow lid of our plastic toybox, which as near as I can make out is some sort of staging platform for dramatic rescues. My Bible, resting to the side of the chair, has become a hoist basket, and the magazine rack in which I used to keep my reading now serves as extra storage space.
The piece de resistance is a realistic rescue vehicle light from the Magna Wheels Fire Rescue set which actually flashes and sounds a siren when a button is pressed. This is situated atop the chair back, just where it ought to be.
This police helicopter keeps our dear boy entertained a good portion of each day but makes for difficult grown-up entertainment, forcing living room occupants to sit in a line on the couch rather than facing each other. But let's face it--with as sick as we've been, no one's visiting anyway, so the helicopter can stay.
Staring at the helicopter this afternoon, I found myself wondering why so many little boys--and my little boy in particular--are fascinated by police cars, ambulances, and the like, and why so many want to be fire fighters or sheriffs when they grow up. What is it that makes these hero roles attractive?
All these jobs essentially involve stepping in and solving problems, often major, life-threatening ones. Is this hero-worship an early manifestation and emulation of the male need to "fix" things? Do men from preschool age on up long to set things right? Women find this both attractive--the "man in uniform" thing--and annoying--the "can't you just listen without trying to solve my problems?" thing.
Maybe once my fever goes away and I get up off the couch again I won't spend my days making such huge leaps. But for now, it's all I've got to entertain me. That, and dispatching the police helicopter.
The body of the helicopter is our overstuffed armchair, and it has many accessories. On one arm sits a white stuffed animal in a shoebox-sized bin; this is the police dog in its kennel. On the other arm is an art set-turned-first-aid kit-turned-police computer (it flips open and closed just like Mommy's laptop!). The seat holds a box containing Band-Aids, a walkie-talkie, a couple of Ace bandages used as seat belts or rapelling cables, and a long stick with a ribbon tied to the top of it (not sure what that is).
On the floor in front of the chair lies the yellow lid of our plastic toybox, which as near as I can make out is some sort of staging platform for dramatic rescues. My Bible, resting to the side of the chair, has become a hoist basket, and the magazine rack in which I used to keep my reading now serves as extra storage space.
The piece de resistance is a realistic rescue vehicle light from the Magna Wheels Fire Rescue set which actually flashes and sounds a siren when a button is pressed. This is situated atop the chair back, just where it ought to be.
This police helicopter keeps our dear boy entertained a good portion of each day but makes for difficult grown-up entertainment, forcing living room occupants to sit in a line on the couch rather than facing each other. But let's face it--with as sick as we've been, no one's visiting anyway, so the helicopter can stay.
Staring at the helicopter this afternoon, I found myself wondering why so many little boys--and my little boy in particular--are fascinated by police cars, ambulances, and the like, and why so many want to be fire fighters or sheriffs when they grow up. What is it that makes these hero roles attractive?
All these jobs essentially involve stepping in and solving problems, often major, life-threatening ones. Is this hero-worship an early manifestation and emulation of the male need to "fix" things? Do men from preschool age on up long to set things right? Women find this both attractive--the "man in uniform" thing--and annoying--the "can't you just listen without trying to solve my problems?" thing.
Maybe once my fever goes away and I get up off the couch again I won't spend my days making such huge leaps. But for now, it's all I've got to entertain me. That, and dispatching the police helicopter.
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 8:42 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home