Magoo is obsessed with bubbles. He is driven to play with them. Whenever he has a hole in his schedule, he slips out on the front porch for a little quality time with his liquid soap, glycerin and a plastic wand. Dan is not nearly as traumatized by the thought of Magoo playing with that kind of wand as he is about him wearing the pink princess pull-ups I snagged on freecycle from a seller who forgot to mention the gender of her recently potty-trained child and whom I forgot to ask.
He brings the bubbles in the van whenever we go out and leaves them in his cup holder until it’s time to get out of the car. Through the Target parking lot, down the sidewalks of the outdoor mall, standing outside of Subway. Everywhere we go he blows the bubbles while I hold onto him by the scruff of his parka.
The bubbles match his personality perfectly, round, happy, bouncy and colorful until suddenly he pops and I throw him in bed.
I am forever entertained by him.