Wing Span

I've been meaning to get this down for weeks -- and update on our household usage of "Toy Story" phrases.

Miles was given a Buzz Lightyear for Christmas, and for $14.99 it is a marvel of plastic plus computer chips. It has pop-out wings and rotating limbs. Its laser light has accompanying sounds. It speaks near-endless phrases with even the softest depression of any of three multi-colored buttons. It has decals and logos, a shiny airbrushed face and retractable plexiglass helmet.

Of course, almost-3-year-old Miles is in love with it.

Through frequent play, the young M. has repeatedly heard the movie phrase, "to infinity and beyond." And, with repetition has come rapid progress in pronouncing it. A short time after Christmas, he began saying "To in-tif-i-ty and be-YAWN!" (This an improvement over his first go-round!)

Lately, he has almost perfected the phrase. I hear Buzz' laser working in the bedroom; I feel the pounding of feet down the hall; and the words erupt as a little boy and flying toy move through the room: "To in-FIT-TI-TEE and be-YAAWND HERE!"

Though less mixed up, It's still priceless.

But the best malaprop I have heard, with regard to our beloved Buzz, comes from another randomly shuffled phrase. "Look at my impressive wing span," says the toy in his best, authoritative manner. "LOOK! My precious wingspan," repeats the boy in his sweet, precocious voice.

Since he moved past the shelter of infant things, of rattles, blocks and bears, of string-together fish and plastic farm animals, I have developed a love-hate relationship with Miles' toys. I love how well and how long he plays with them; I hate how many I find underfoot or tucked into spaces like couch cushions. I love what independent role-playing his cartoon friends encourage; I hate what violent ideas they sometimes support. I love the imagination he brings to bear with his toys; I often hate the results of his "work" with my kitchen utensils, my bed pillows, my make-up and my furniture.

I may harbor an unfair grudge against Bob the Builder, and I do object to Spiderman's run-ins with gunslinging "bad guys," but just now, as I hear Miles' clear toddler tones exaulting his "precious wing span," I am completely in love with a Space Ranger.