baby is in the eye of the beholder

So Sage and I were having fun folding paper in the living room.

First, she crumpled a sheet of bond paper in her little hand, letting the edges stick out between her fingers. "This is flower," she told me.

"What a lovely flower!" I cooed admiringly.

Next, she smoothed the paper out as best she could and rolled it into a long tube. "This is telescope," she proclaimed, gazing through one end of it.

I asked permission to look too, and we had great fun peering at each other's eyes through opposite ends of the tube.

Then she tucked the paper into a little bundle, which she cradled in her arms, humming her version of a lullabye. "This is baby," she explained. "Hmm hmm hmm, hmm hmm hmm."

Suddenly, she unfolded her arms, letting the 'baby' tumble to the floor. "Oh, no, baby fell," she announced, sounding not the least bit sorry.

"Poor baby!" I cried, reaching down to snatch the bundle off the floor. "It's okay, baby," I crooned, stroking the bundle. "Don't cry, it's okay."

"Mommy, that's not baby," Sage pronounced, looking at me as though I had taken leave of my senses. She pointed to the now-battered piece of short bond. "That's just paper."