Ben and his friend were in the bedroom playing war. Because they are the kinds of boys they are, the game involved lego and much discussion but very little discernible war play. Still, because I am the kind of mom I am, I suggested some other more friendly narratives in which to involve their lego. Eli listened attentively and then offered his peace plan:

“All war, go home! Have dinner! Go to sleep!”

On Wednesdays, a friend drives Ben to school and Eli gets a little extra play time at home. This morning, he decided to rebuild the chair-train that he and Ben used to make all the time; it’s been so long, he’d forgotten about this arrangement, and was clearly delighted with his own creativity. The blue plastic coal tender is a new feature, but then he needed coal. “Mama, what would be appropriate coal?”

I paused, a bit surprised by his fancy new word, and then handed him a ball.

He pounded it between his hands once or twice, and then put it in the “tender,” deeming it appropriate. I handed him another ball. Same response. I found another ball; into the coal tender it went.

Then we ran out of living room toys so I went to scout the play kitchen. “Would this make appropriate coal?” I asked, really unsure of his requirements, as I handed him some plastic scoops of ice cream. He regarded them carefully. “No. They are NOT appropriate.” “How about these?” I suggested, offering up the cupcakes that his godmother Libby made him. “Yes! These are appropriate!” He ran them into the living room one by one, shouting happily, “These are ap-pro-pri-ate! These are ap-pro-pri-ate!” The vacuum-sealed bag of coffee beans: appropriate (shiny and black, it’s arguably the most appropriate, despite its shape). The empty box of Hershey’s cocoa powder: not appropriate.

We had time for one ride — Eli, his little blue bear, and me — to the zoo, and then it was time to leave for school, where I expect he was able to continue his train play in some other appropriate way.