Abbie and the Scotch Tape

Each morning when John and I awaken, our dachshunds go crazy: Running around the house, grabbing squeakie toys, tossing them into the air and bounding after them. This morning, it was business as usual, when our blind, deaf dachshund, Abbie, decided to join in the fun. She was bouncing with the others, oblivious to the fact that she can neither see nor hear, yet, she can smell and sense, and she knew that excitement was in the air. When the others grabbed their toys, Abbie stumbled upon the closest "toy" to her ... the Scotch Tape I'd left on the ground while wrapping Christmas presents. There was something so sweet and heartbreaking about that. The way she played alone, thinking she had a toy, too. In fact, she was so perfectly happy with her "toy," it made me wonder, "Why should I feel sad?" Who am I to judge her enjoyment?

My friend Barb says that her toddler Sam is happier playing with empty shampoo bottles than he is using the hundreds of Seasame Street action figures she has for him in the bathtub. Who is to say which is more fun?

Do you remember being a kid and making a fort out of nothing more than couch cushions? Or, making a car with blocks? When I was little, the moss on the forest floor was my carpet, and the trees, my roof. I would play in my makeshift, outdoorsy home all afternoon, bringing out sandwiches and reading books. A towel on my head became a hat. That same towel over my shoulders became a cape.

Later, in college, Psych 101, I learned about, "Overcoming functional fixedness." As if this were something to strive for ... the innovation of using one tool for some other purpose. Didn't we already master that in kindergarten?

A long time ago, a brilliant sketch on Saturday Night Live showed the young Gilda Radner playing a child who was taken to a child psychologist by her sparring parents. She was a nervous wreck. Shaking and tremoring. The parents were loudly arguing behind her, all while saying, "We don't know what's wrong with her!? She's always been like this!" As the therapist tried to assess the situation, she asked Gilda to pick out a toy on the shelf that reminded her most of her. After examining all of the beautiful dolls and teddy bears, she went straight to the therapist's desk and picked up the Scotch Tape. THAT was what she thought of herself. And again, I judged it as sad. And funny. And touching. And really, how far was I from the truth?