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A Wubbulous way to start the day

Submitted by on Friday, 2 January 2009 2 Comments

Boots flew at me with tears streaming, end-of-the-world angst written across his face.

Momma!” — they call me Momma mainly when they want something. “He says I can’t be Wubbzy, and I wanna be Wubbzy. I’m Wubbzy!”

“Of course you’re Wubbzy,” I said, hoping to send him along with his way with an absent-minded but appropriately tight hug for end-of-the-world agnst.

He was trotted off, mollified until the next eruption roughly 3.6 seconds later.

“No, I’M Wubbzy. There’s only one Wubbzy,” Big Guy shouted after Boots delivered the message, I’m assuming without a hug.

“I’m Wubbzy!”

“No, I’m Wubbzy!”

It was the silliest dispute since the Pizza Man Melee, but I had to step in. It would never do for the headlines to read “Mommy  Blogger’s Boys Bludgeon Each Other While She Writes a Post.”

The problem with their arguments of late is that they keep getting louder as each tries to outdo the other, convinced that mere volume will win the day. And it’s bonus points when they can escalate to the point of violating local noise ordinances and get Mom involved.

I’m sure it also has something to do with Boots’ growing independence, a trait that leads him to chafe at times at Big Guy’s relentless “leadership.” Sometimes Boots likes to stake a claim just for the sake of standing his ground. Big Guy, it seems, had expected Boots to remain the malleable baby brother all his life.

By all rights, Boots should be able to claim the role. He discovered Wubbzy — at least in our house — and Santa brought him the toy. If there’s any fit arbiter of fictional characters, it should be Claus. Clearly, though, this had gone past an issue of rights and was about to land on the side of fisticuffs.

“OK, guys, what’s going on?”

“I’m Wubbzy!”

“No, I’m Wubbzy!”

“I hear that. But why can’t you both be Wubbzy? It’s your imagination. You can be whoever you want to be.”

That mollified Big Guy, who seemed to grasp that he had the lesser claim in this case. “See? I can be Wubbzy!”

Not Boots, though. “I wanna be Wubbzy!

“And you can be Wubbzy, too. You be Wubbzy over here,” I said, pointing to the nearby love seat, “and your brother can be Wubbzy over there,” I added while gesturing to the couch where Big Guy sat.

“But cousin says there’s only one Wubbzy,” Big Guy burst in. “She says I have to be Wubbzy, Boots is Walden and she’s Widget.”

She’s Widget? Wait a minute. I’m always Widget. “No, I’m Widget!” I almost shrieked.

I snapped out of it. Dang literal-minded law-and-order thinking had almost dragged me into the dispute.

“Look, cousin’s not here, and even if she were, there’s no reason both of you can’t be Wubbzy. All three of you could be Wubbzy. That’s the great thing about an imagination. You can imagine you’re whomever you want to be.”

Boots quit crying, Big Guy quit shouting and they stuck to their respective pieces of furniture until it was time for the next DVD.

“I’m Batman!” Big Guy claimed

“No, I’m Batman!” Boots countered.

“I’m Batman. I’m always Batman.”

“My magination says I’m Batman,” Boots smirked.

Oh, brother.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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  • MtnMom said:

    And I’m Wonder Woman. ((gasp-snort-snicker-wheeze!))

  • Debra said:

    He he he. That might be better than being a giant pink rabbit with a Texas accent. Though Widget’s like the McGyver of the bunny set, and I’ll admit those skills would be handy. Once you get beyond duct tape, I’m pretty lost.