So Oliver, my youngest son, has just turned three. How did that happen? Way too fast. As his brother is only 19 months older it feels like he grew up too quickly. In toy terms, he simply skipped a year. He went from rattles and soft toys straight to Bob The Builder and Thomas The Tank Engine. There was no time for those stepping stone toddler toys and pursuits – Wiggles, Baby Einstein. No way. Oliver wasn’t going to bother with that dross – he only had eyes for his older bros toys. 

So now as he turns three it seems like his latest toy fad is Snoopy. At first I wasn’t sure where that came from. Only last week it was Lightning McQueen and Hudson Hornet from the Cars film – and suddenly, with no apparent rhyme or reason, they are downgraded to the bottom of the toy pile. Rejected – the only glimmer of hope offered by a thrift store visit and re-discovery by a new, more appreciative child. Hang on a minute, isn’t that a rough outline of a film plot? Toy Story? Can’t remember if it’s 1 or 2.

So it turns out his Snoopy fixation came from being shown clips off the internet by Melissa. I didn’t know Snoopy still existed? He was in my childhood for cripes sake and he’s still hanging around like a bad smell. Next week he’ll be telling me he likes Mr Ben and wants a Bagpuss doll for Christmas. So it also turns out there is a Snoopy themed area at Knotts Berry Farm which is just up the road, so as a birthday treat we are taking him tomorrow (September 14th 2010). 

The interaction between little boys and their toys are like brief love affairs. One week they are infatuated and head over heels, the toy permanently clutched in their sweaty little palms. Only for it to be cruelly dumped in exchange for the next weeks toy de jour. I blame Walt Disney. And possibly the parents.