Some of you wondered why in the world Pooter (my five year old) would call me a hockey puck.
I really wish I could give you an answer, because you’re nice people and deserve one, but the fact is, I have no idea why he calls me hockey puck.
I can tell you that he finds it hilarious, especially when I act shocked and dismayed.
Maybe the following conversation between Pooter and I will shed some light on what is going on in that cute little noggin of his.
Him (doing his angry face): I’m really angry.
Me: I can see that. What are you angry about?
Him: Well, I’m angry about trophies.
Me (thinking WTF, Mate?): Trophies? Why are you angry about trophies?
Him: Well, trophies are yellow and yellow really isn’t my favorite color.
There. Does that help clear things up?
No? Yeah, not for me either.
The truth is, I have no idea where he gets most of this stuff.
The good news is, he fits right in around here.
The little hockey puck.
This is his angry look. You’re actually not getting the full effect, because he also hunches his shoulders, balls his fists and changes his voice. He’s either going to be an actor or a con man. Or a preacher. Or a politician. I’m not sure which one I’m pulling for. Also, his eyes aren’t really red, it’s just how the picture turned out.
Or is it?
Holly Jolly Christmas as sung by Burl Ives (thanks Mrs. Chili!).