My son has worn his red cowboy hat almost into oblivion. He wears it with his snow boots and insists we call him Woody. He calls his younger sister Buzz. (I suggested Jessie. He said no. He wants the more permanent side kick.) He shouts "To infinity and beyond!" (It's his prerogative as an older brother, I guess, to co-opt the cool catch phrase.) He is Woody. Reach for the sky!
Unless he's being Super Why (see PBS Kids).
In which case he puts on his sun glasses and sneakers and rides around on his tricycle like a maniac. He pauses to raise his fist in the air, a super hero stance all the way, and yells out "Power to Read!" Though it actually sounds more like "Powah-uh-weed!" And that works too.
He still calls his sister Buzz.
Adopting whichever persona so completely he will not allow me to call him by his name. Rather he yells at me "No! I Super Why!" And I forget over and over again, rarely remembering to call him Super Why. But he is persistent.
It's so interesting to me to watch how each of my children use their imaginations. It is so specifically tailored to who they are. My older girls are avid story-tellers. They make up stories as they draw, as they play. Everything is a story. And they are the creators, the producers and the directors. (We have also often had visits from the character who live in the 100 Acre Wood. I'm not sure why. But they are popular with both my older girls.)
But Super Why wants to live the experience. He has nothing to do with making up the story. He is the story. And will be, long past the time when his cowboy hat can keep up.
One thing doesn't change. He calls me his mom, whether he is Woody or Super Why or Horton Hears a Who. And I love it when, after helping him find his sun glasses for the nineteenth time he says "Tanks, Mom."
I just hope some day he'll let me call him by his real name. Really, that's not too much to ask.
Unless he's being Super Why (see PBS Kids).
In which case he puts on his sun glasses and sneakers and rides around on his tricycle like a maniac. He pauses to raise his fist in the air, a super hero stance all the way, and yells out "Power to Read!" Though it actually sounds more like "Powah-uh-weed!" And that works too.
He still calls his sister Buzz.
Adopting whichever persona so completely he will not allow me to call him by his name. Rather he yells at me "No! I Super Why!" And I forget over and over again, rarely remembering to call him Super Why. But he is persistent.
It's so interesting to me to watch how each of my children use their imaginations. It is so specifically tailored to who they are. My older girls are avid story-tellers. They make up stories as they draw, as they play. Everything is a story. And they are the creators, the producers and the directors. (We have also often had visits from the character who live in the 100 Acre Wood. I'm not sure why. But they are popular with both my older girls.)
But Super Why wants to live the experience. He has nothing to do with making up the story. He is the story. And will be, long past the time when his cowboy hat can keep up.
One thing doesn't change. He calls me his mom, whether he is Woody or Super Why or Horton Hears a Who. And I love it when, after helping him find his sun glasses for the nineteenth time he says "Tanks, Mom."
I just hope some day he'll let me call him by his real name. Really, that's not too much to ask.
So sweet!
ReplyDeleteAh, yes, he really is quite the charming personalities. I think besides "himself" I like Woody the best.
ReplyDeleteI loved this.
ReplyDeleteI'd so don't hold your breath. He'll be the kid who writes down "Super Why" on his graduation announcement cards.
ReplyDeleteWe still need to talk Wordpress sometime but I'm too tired. Later. A few weeks and we'll do it. Although the site looks good the way it is, simple and pretty.
That Oliver! He's quite the boy. I feel like I'm missing out not seeing him enough. Someday perhaps life will settle just a bit. It would be nice.
ReplyDelete