Jack came home from my sister's house today with a box of 445 hockey cards. Don't ask me where she purchased such a pack from, but it made for a happy three year old. And yes, she was grinning when she handed them over.
It all started when my sister asked Lydia if she wanted to take a comic home (because- for a little girl who can't yet read- she loves comics. Don't ask me about that one either). Anyways, that set Jack off. In his overtired, burnt out state he snatched up the nearest thing he could get his hands on- a toy truck- and declared that he wanted to take that home. I vetoed that. He threw a fit. Hold up. That's a bit too mild... Let's try- he started wailing and screaming and became this little monster that would not be reasoned with.
Until... my sis comes up with this pack of hockey cards for him to take instead. She told him he could give some to his buddies to which he took to heart. When we got home he said, "I have to give some to my friends." Then, he took a handful of them to bed with him, begrudgingly parted with one for his little sister, and asked if someone could play hockey cards with him tomorrow. Yes, he thinks they're a game.
My prediction? By 9:30 a.m. tomorrow there will be, oh... about 445 hockey cards flying around the living room. The good news? I have a fresh container of Colombian coffee sitting on my counter. It's all good.