Three years old is a funny age. On the one hand, Toby seems really grown up, and we’ll chatter away about everything from violins to Indian food. Sometimes I almost forget that he’s not a fellow 34-year-old. But then he’ll bust out something crazy and childlike and I’ll remember how little he really is. I love the magical thinking at this age. For example…

“You and Daddy go somewhere tonight?”
“We’re going to our friend’s house.”
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“His name is Scott.”
“Is he a man, a lady or a monster?”

“When Anton gets bigger, you can teach him how to talk and walk.”
“I will teach him how to ride a horse.” (Ed. note: Toby does not know how to ride a horse.)

“Boys and glulls.”


Toby also has an imaginary friend named Dun Dun. He’s always calling him on the phone or asking if we can meet Dun Dun at the playground. He takes their friendship very seriously. We ask him nosy questions about the mysterious Dun Dun, and so far we’ve deduced that Dun Dun is a three-year-old with a blue motorcycle…

“Where does Dun Dun live?”
“On the Upper West Side. Near San Francisco.”

“Where you and Daddy go last night?”
“To a restaurant called Otto.”
“Oh, yeah, I love that place.” (Ed. note: He has never been.)
“Oh, really?”
“Me and Dun Dun go there.”
“What do you guys eat?”
“Chicken and broccoli. And water.”

“Me and Dun Dun are going to the park to meet our friends.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“Boom Boom and La La.”

“Is Dun Dun a boy or a girl?”
“Dun Dun’s my darling.”

Toby, I love you so much, you little weirdo!

P.S. Toby in conversation as a two-year-old.