For most people, doors and elevators are the means to an end--the way to get somewhere. To Little Man, they are the main event and destination.
He's always liked doors. He's always liked things that open and closed. Oh, it's gone way past that now. He's obsessed. He's always at the front of a crowd to open the door and happy to hold it open until everyone has passed through. In fact, he insists on holding it open, waving people through if they stop to question him with a disgruntled look on his face.
And previously, elevators were things that we rode occasionally--at the mall, at the doctor's office, when we visited Nana at work. But now that we have our very own elevator in our building, we can't mention leaving without Little Man's eyebrows shooting up and hearing an incessant chatter of "Edda! Edda! Edda!"
Take the zoo, for example. While there are no elevators, there's a plethora of doors of all different sizes and shapes, weights and types. While most little people are running amok exclaiming over the animals, Little Man is content to enter and exit the door to the lemur house 37 times. The only way to move him through the zoo is to say things like, "okay! Lets go check out the door at the gorilla house now!"
We have found some upsides to the door and elevator fascination. Turning a doorknob requires pretty good fine motor skills, and it's a great time to teach some manners: ladies first, don't slam doors, things like that. And the elevator provides a great lesson in numbers: Little Man knows what floor we live on, and we always count as we go up and down. And if I try and trip him up by stopping on a floor that isn't ours, he is quick to correct me.
Another big upside? Little Man doesn't fuss at all on a rainy day when we can't go outside. He's content to enter and exit our apartment a few times, then walk down the hallway to the elevator where he happily informs the other passengers that he's going "up up up-pah!"
It's free and fun, and we'll "ride" it out as long as it lasts.
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