Please say hello to Little Mister Woodchip Triangleman.
I am not sure where Ezra found Mister Woodchip exactly — possibly from his school playground, or swiped from a neighbor's mulch — but I guess it doesn't matter. Mister Woodchip lives with us now. Mister Woodchip lives with us and all of Ezra's many, many actual for-real toys. Although please don't tell Mister Woodchip that I didn't call him a real toy. Because Mister Woodchip is very, very loved.
Here is Mister Woodchip sleeping.
You can tell that he is sleeping because he is wearing his pajamas.
When Mister Woodchip goes for a ride in the car, Mister Woodchip requires a coat.
When taken out in public, Mister Woodchip naturally demands your attention and acknowledgement, despite being an oversized hunk of mulch wrapped in a pair of socks. You will say hi to Mister Woodchip, dear waiter/cashier/random stranger in the supermarket. You WILL. Ezra will simply not tolerate any snubbing of dear Mister Woodchip.
And that's really all I have to say about Mister Woodchip, other than thanks for giving us something to do with all the mismatched socks.