Introducing Boots
It’s one of those things you think is going to have the life expectancy of a house fly when it starts. But then it somehow manages to stick.
Little Guy has been on a “Dora the Explorer” kick lately, and a few times Friday he demanded to be called “Boots.”
Saturday, during one of our weekly slumber parties, he wanted to play, “Where could that monkey be?” And insisted that I search frantically for Boots.
Today, when I greeted him with “Good morning, Little Guy,” he hastily corrected me. “I’m Boots. You’re Dora.” FIne, but I really would look wretchedly washed out with black hair, so I think I’ll stick with red.
Now I’m making it official: The kid formerly known as Little Guy shall henceforth be called “Boots.”
I had been looking for an entre to change his blog name anyway. When I started writing, he was only 1 and Little Guy dovetailed logically with Big Guy. Little Guy wasn’t verbal enough to object. I did consider briefly that long-term there might be certain, er, psychological ramifications at hanging that label on him. And since I hate labels …
Besides, based on their current growth rates, there’s a more than decent chance Little Guy someday will be bigger than Big Guy, though his brother refuses to accept that. “I’ll always be bigger,” Big Guy says. “I’m older.”
Says you. Take that up with Boots in about five years.
Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.
Similar Posts:
- None Found
Popularity: 10% [?]
During the height of the Dora Craze in my house Jillian got a jumper set up in the backyard for her birthday. It was a Dora the Explorer Jumper…of course….which meant that when it was all blown up a giant Hispanic kid was looming over my neighbors’ back yards. They got such a kick out of that, the one neighbor turned on the Mariachi Music and the other simply showed up in the back yard with an empty plate and a fork…”where there is a child’s giant jumper toy,” he said, solemnly, “there is usually birthday cake. Gimme gimme gimme”.
Gosh I used to have nice neighbors…..
I’m dying, Leslie! What a funny story. And it does make me, too, long for the day of better neighbors. Not that the ones I have now are jerks — OK, so there is that one guy. And part of it is because there aren’t that many kids on our streets, hence less running-around chaos.
But everyone is so cloistered anymore that folks would barely notice a giant jumper, let alone show up with a plate and fork. Even people out walking in the evening are mostly moving along with their heads down. I miss the days of people sitting out on their front porches and waving at everyone who went by.
»
»
»
»
»
»
To subscribe