Flynt-stone, meet the Flynt-stone
My four year old son is named Flynt. You probably won’t ever see me write that again. I may even change this post a bit one day down the road, but for the sake of the story, you will do good to know his name is Flynt.
I call him CowBoy for so many reasons. I call him CowBoy to his face often. I call him CowBoy because he likes cowboys. I call him CowBoy because sometimes I can not tell the difference between him and a wild bull and BullBoy just doesn’t sound good. He has cowboy sheets on his bed. He doesn’t play ‘cowboys and indians’ with his sister, he plays ‘cowboy and cowgirl’. He loves it when I read Pioneer Woman’s blog so he can see the pictures of the real cowboys. OH, how he wants to go there.
I probably should have called him Blue instead. Maybe even named him Blue. Look at these eyes, will ya?!
This face melts me. And those eye get me in trouble. It is so hard to say no to that face and those eyes. But firm I must be. He knows these things, I think.
And he uses his weapons. They are called lashes, long luscious lashes.
And then there is this look:
That is the look that says, I just did something and you don’t know what I think I just got away with doing. It’s been dubbed “The Grinch” - “Then he got an idea! An Awful idea! THE GRINCH GOT A WONDERFUL AWFUL IDEA!” It’s also the look of trouble for me because it is so hard not to laugh when I see it. He’ll never be good at poker because a poker face he does not have.
Most of the time he is just a sweet-heart. And he is growing up too, too fast. When we moved here in March of ‘05 he was not quite a year old.
He turned four this past April. As we snuggled in the bed this morning with Bairno I said, “Flyntie (only I can call him Flyntie, he really doesn’t like it though) why did you turn four? It means your growing up. Will you keep snuggling with me even if you grow up?”
“Mama, I turned four because four comes after free. And five comes after four.”
“Well, maybe we can start counting backwards and you can be free again after four?”
“Not free. Free”
“That’s what I said. Free.”
“Mama, stop it. You know four does not come after free; it comes after free. The number free. Don’t say free. That’s not a number.”
“OH, I see. I’m sorry. Well, what comes after twelve?”
“Mama? Did you forget all your numbers? After twelve comes firteen.”
“Thank you, baby. Now what about number twenty-two; what comes after that?”
“grrrr. Twenty-free.”
“Here’s another one for you to help with: thirty-one.”
*sigh* “Firty-two, firty-free, firty-four.”
And because I love that thirty and forty sound just alike I said, “And forty-one?”
“Firty-two, firty-free, firty-four. And den you keep going like dat.”
“OK, Flyntie, I guess I will let you be five on your next birthday. I mean since you know all your numbers I guess I can’t fool you, can I?”
“No! You can not. (pause) And, Mama, when I turn five you can’t call me Flyntie anymore. You have to call me just Flynt.”
“OK, Just Flynt, I can call you Just Flynt now if you want.”
He slapped his head with his right hand and moaned, “Mama!” as he fell back on my pillow.
I love that boy!
You’re right–you are in big trouble with that face and those wonderful eyes. He’s soooo cute. Makes me remember when our two daughters were four. They are now 29 and 26.
There were just cute things they said that became part of our family language, and sometimes we still say them, just for fun. Like the youngest’s description of being too hot–”sweaty hot”. And the oldest saying on her first flight to Disneyland as she looked out the window–”Where’s God?” That’s one of my favorites. And of course, the potty training days with the youngest, who proudly would announce “Make water in potty.” It was always interesting to try to figure out how her mind worked, but I still haven’t mastered that completely.
Then there was my own original word when I was about four. I couldn’t say biscuit, and instead said “bicut”, which was repeated long after I could say it properly. (I did the same thing as your son, where I kept correcting all my family who said bicut, knowing that it wasn’t right, but I still couldn’t say it.) It died out till my mother moved out here when the girls were in grade school and shared that word with our daughters, which then saw it creeping into our conversations. *sigh*
Our youngest’s name is Laura. I had every intention of calling her Laurie, but never started it. By the time I tried it, or someone else did, she was about two and corrected them, rather indignantly, saying “Not Laurie–Laura!” Oh, well, Laurie doesn’t really fit her after all.
And I miss those snuggling mornings. The good news is that the girls remember it and miss it too. Some of the best memories are the unplanned and simple ones.
Enjoy–they do grow up so quickly.
Pat
Eeyores last blog post..Death as a theme in Harry Potter
So sweet!
Flynt is just sooo cute and adorable.
Babies and kids are heaven-send. They enrich our life so. How can we resist their wants and wishes? Looking at a baby growing up and developing their skills, it’s just so fascinating and endearing. When they smile, when they giggle and laugh… ohh. Yes, they really grow up much too fast. Before you know, they will turn into teenager.
Enjoy,
Eleanor
Eleanors last blog post..DIY Mr Beer?
*mush, mush*