“Excuse me. I noticed my mommy went into that room without me. I would like the record to show that I am deeply disappointed by this decision.”
Then he sits there dramatically, staring at the door, staring at Dad, staring back at the door, making absolutely sure everyone understands he has been wronged.
And….Those eyes!
“I am a sweet, innocent baby who has never done anything wrong in my entire life. Also, I am currently judging every choice you have made today.”
And then there’s the under-the-bed routine, which is honestly genius. He doesn’t hide because he’s scared. He hides because he knows you’ll come looking for him.
“Oh no, where’s Coopy?”
Meanwhile Coopy:
“Excellent. The operation is proceeding exactly as planned.”
The thing that makes him so adorable is that he’s not just attached to you; he wants to be included in whatever is happening, especially if mommy goes somewhere (ANYWHERE), he wants to know. If someone closes a door, he immediately assumes there must be a very important meeting occurring that requires his supervision.
And Coopy has this very specific little family ritual: he only truly comes alive with Dad when mommy’s in the room. If I come home, he doesn’t just greet me NOPE. He runs to tell Dad that I’m home, then brings Dad the toy like, “She’s here! The audience has arrived! Let the show begin!”
He doesn’t really play with me the same way. Dad is the play guy. But apparently, I am the required witness. Coopy needs both of us in our assigned roles: Dad as the official toy-thrower, me as the emotional support audience.
It’s the funniest thing. He’s not just playing; he’s performing. And if I’m not there, the whole production shuts down. That’s Coopy: part dog,
…part tiny family entertainer, part drama king who needs his people exactly where they belong.
Yes, that is our Coopy. My constant companion.
