6.30.2009

Call Me Sally, or Call Me Nothing

My chin has had a rough morning.

It started at 5:30 this morning when Mason, who was crawling around our sleepy bed fell backwards directly below my lip. If I wasn't fully awake before, I certainly was then. Nothing like a good whack on the head to get you out of bed.

Two hours later, after I got Mase down for his morning nap, I was throwing our green bouncy ball at Vaughn while he used his tennis racket as a baseball bat. I thought humm. I think I better scoot back-- WHACK! Exact same spot. So I have a swollen chin, which I didn't really know was possible until today.

For three days now, Vaughn has insisted that I am Sally (you know Sally from the movie Cars? The one with the little pin-stripe tatoo on the small of her bumper, who used to work as a lawyer for some big-wig firm in Southern California, but then broke down in Radiator Springs, which she found herself in, and now loves it. Yes, her. If you haven't seen it you probably don't have a two year old little boy). Vaughn is Lightning. Call him by any other name, and you are sure to be corrected, or ignored. And Daddy is Mater. Yesterday I asked Vaughn (excuse me-- Lightning) who Mason was. He studied Mason for a moment, during which Mason sneezed. His face relaxed and he looked very certain while answering, "Mason is Snot Rod." I think it fits quite nicely, to tell you the truth.

Our days are guided by Lightnings vivid imagination. He always has a story or scenario playing out in his mind. I find things like this all over the house:

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I took this picture right before putting the kids down for a nap. This is exactly how I found puppy. Puppy, if you can't tell, is enjoying a yummy snack of chalk and magnets (or meat and vegetables, depending on who you ask). Puppy is a big part of our day. He takes naps with us, eats meals with us, and sometimes even takes a walk with us. But he's not allowed in the tub. Puppy doesn't like the tub.

I love his imagination. It's like watching a really good movie play out or reading a fascinating book, only ten zillion times better. I have no idea what this little boy is going to do with his life, but I feel certain that it will be really interesting. I just hope that it doesn't involve a tennis racket.