Name Change

For the record, LM will henceforth be referred to (fondly) as "Flash".  I will even, upon occasion, single a little theme song for him much to the likes of the Flash Gordon song.

Why?  you ask?  Because his head and his body are no longer on speaking terms.

As just an example, I give you today's evidence:

This morning, at church, we were watching the Children's Christmas program (which was the best and most adorable one I've ever seen) and I quietly pointed out to LM in the bulletin that one of the boys in the cast, one that was particularly funny, was one of the pastor's sons.  I pointed to his name and then pointed to the pastor's name further in the program.  Flash whispered to me, "Pastor B's last name is Smith?"  My response?  "We call you Flash."

On the way home, he heard Piano Man on the radio for the second time.  He fell in love with the song the first time through and had mentioned he would like to buy it on itunes.  I told him I owned it (or thought I did.  I told him I was certain one of his parents owned it, I  just wasn't sure which one got it in the divorce).  When we arrived home, he quickly ran to the stereo to get it tuned to that same station to hear the end of the song.  I walked over and browsed the CD collection not one foot in front of my child.  I said, "I don't see it.  I know it's a double disk set.  Your dad must have it.  But I know that one of the two of us owns it, so don't buy it."  I walked over and sat on the couch.   The boy turned to me and said, "Hey Mom?  Weren't you going to look for that CD with Piano Man on it?"   Flash, Ahhhhhhaaaaaaa!

After much prodding and coaxing (it all comes down to some very carefully place peanut butter) we finally got Eli interested in chewing a bone that I bought him over Thanksgiving.  Knowing he would love it once he got the hang of it, I was thrilled to see him finally eating away but became concerned when he had been at it for more than an hour.  I had visions of rawhide coming back up later.  "We need to get the rest of that bone away from him before he eats the whole thing in one sitting," I said to LM.  "I'll tell you what, you take him outside and while he's gone, I'll put the rest of the bone up in the cabinet for another night."  LM got the leash and took Eli outside while I picked up the soggy remains of the bone and tucked them away for another night.  When Eli came back inside and began looking for his precious bone, LM turned to me and said, "Did he really eat that whole thing already?"    

It's a daily experience with LM that has brought us to Flash status.  And it's been going on long and often enough that he'll now even stop and look at me in a moment of clarity and say, "I know, don't even say it" realizing he's just had another Flash moment.  

To his credit, however, I've had my moments, too.  I pulled into a parking spot tonight and in an effort to avoid stepping right into huge puddles when I opened my door, I pulled further forward than I might have otherwise.  It was only when I got out of the car, gloating slightly for my thoughtfulness that had thus far kept my feet dry, that I realized everything I needed was in the trunk, which was now directly over the huge puddle I had been trying to avoid all along.  I could do little more than to look at LM and say, "That's where you get it from originally, Flash.  They just call me, the Mother of Flash."