I've written before about Abby's odd obsession with Dr. Who. Though her immediate interest in it has waned over time, she'll still sit down to watch it happily enough so long as her daddy is there to cuddle along with her. She'll also make mention of her favorite parts of it at random times, chattering on about weeping angels during the course of her play or blurting out quotes like, "Bowties are cool." Occasionally, she'll ask us to put it on (though Curious George is usually her first request) but has begun to create a rather long list in her head of Episodes to Avoid, stating that she finds them too scary.
Lately, however, Michael- who has never had much of an interest in cartoons or kid-focused material, but who requests that I play episodes of Bones on a daily basis so that he can watch while curled up in my lap- has joined in on the Dr. Who bandwagon. He's even gone so far as attempting the word "doctor," which sounds like "dac-ta" when he works hard to really enunciate.
Otherwise, it sounds a lot like "dada," which is the word that I thought he was chanting at Gracie as he faced off against her this morning, stolen tympanic thermometer in hand. But then, I watched what he was doing. He had the thermometer held outward, gripping it in his hand as though it were a weapon or tool.
His excited shouting began to reach my ears with sudden clarity. "Doctor! Doctor!"
"Dr. Who? Are you being Dr. Who?"
His twinkling eyes and devilish grin in response confirmed my inquiry. "Hoo, hoo," he squealed.
"Look, Tom!" I said. "Our little Dr. Who. He found himself a sonic screwdriver!"
And indeed, he had.