The mystery of Bobby

Lyla came home with crazy hair today.

After dinner she walked up to Julie and, hands crossed in front of her, said "Bobby."

"Bobby? Who's Bobby?"

"Hey Lyla," I interrupted. "Let's--"

"Hold on, I want to know who this Bobby is."

"Bobby? Who cares?"

"Well look where her hands are. She put her hands there and said Bobby. Lyla, who is Bobby?"

Lyla nodded. "Bobby."

"Hey kiddo," I said. "Is Bobby a little pervert at daycare?"

"Yeah."

"Dan!"

"Hey Lyla, is Bobby a big dinosaur with horns where his butt should be?"

"Yeah." She pointed to the window, then the door. "Bobby."

"Oh my God, Julie, does she have an imaginary friend?"

Julie shrugged. "Lyla is Bobby outside?"

"Yeah."

I picked her up. "Okay, let's go. Show me Bobby."

Outside I followed Lyla's pointed finger all the way to the car window. She pointed to the car seat. "Bobby."

"Bobby's in the car seat?"

"Yeah."

"Is he okay in there?"

"Yeah."

"Should we leave him there?"

"Yeah."

I walked her up the porch steps to where Julie was standing in the doorway. "Bobby's locked in the car."

Julie's eyes expanded. I put Lyla down and she ran over to the couch and began climbing it. "Bobby! Bobby peez." She reached for a box of crackers on the table behind the couch.

"No no, Lyla," I said, taking the box. "Dinner's over. We're not having bunnies."

"Dan, bunnies!"

I smacked my forehead. "Bunnies!"

"Bobbies!"

I put down the bunny crackers, looked out the window at the bunnies playing in the yard, and thought about the car seat with its bunny-shaped shoulder pads.

Lyla must think we are total dumb-asses.