O Baby!

The G-man has a favorite letter. It's O. Why? I have no clue, but ever since he received a little fridge magnet thing with letters (you put the letters in a holder and it tells what it is, sings a song, etc.), he has been fascinated with the O. The other letters could spend all day at the movies, but that O had better stay home.

It's gone beyond a preference to an obsession. He is on a quest to find Os in everything. He counts the Os on a page in his books; he looks for Os on trucks passing by; he thinks circles are just Os filled in. He doesn't even discriminate between Os and zeroes. When we walk, we have to stop at every house on a certain block to find the O in the address (4305, 4400, you get the picture).

By far, though, his preferred place to find an O is on a stop sign. Everywhere we drive, he looks for the stop sign O. In fact, G-man likes them so much, the promise of finding one is how get him to agree to leave the house when he's less than cooperative. Our morning walks take longer now as we have to pause to look at - and admire - a stop sign O any time we encounter one. I even change the routes we take just so we can see more. He has a little toy stop sign he carries with him and I routinely hear him pointing out the O. The stop sign O is worshipped at our home in drawings, stickers and repeated visits to the accessories page of his train catalog.

O, O, O, o, o, o...oh!

But watch out alphabet king; your round and poufy superiority may soon be challenged by something far edgier: the G-man thinks an X is a railroad crossing sign.