So, I’m not sure how many of you out there have 4 year-olds. Mine has all of a sudden thrown herself full into imaginary play. Like, all the time. This is my first in-depth experience with it, and I’m not sure if this stage is normal, or if it’s just mine. Either way, it’s proving extremely funny … and occasionally a bit disturbing.
What am I talking about?
Paige. Oh, Paige, Paige, Paige. Her imagination has taken a HUGE step to the forefront of our lives. To say she makes s*^t up sometimes would be the understatement of the year.
Take this past Friday night.
We were at Nani and Botsie’s house for dinner, and we were discussing their “new” cat. I say “new” because the cat is only new to them. She is one of two cats that belonged to my little brother. She is a precious, but skittish, kitten who is wise enough to make herself scarce anytime my kids are in the neighborhood.
This kitty came with the name “Puddin'”, and for the first week or so of her visit, Nani and Botsie were planning to send her to Florida to live with her previous owner. However, “Puddin'” smartly realized that no one, NO ONE can resist a cat-paw massage and the warmth of a purring kitty on your tummy. Especially if said someone’s are feeling sad and need some TLC. I don’t care if you say you hate cats – try to not enjoy the aforementioned snuggling. Unless your heart is made of stone, you’ve got yourself a new pet.
So, “Puddin'” gets to stay – her name does not. After much negotiation, a new name was chosen.
(sidenote – what does it say about our family that it took us a full week to decide on the new name for a cat? A cat that only lives with Nani and Botsie. Yet ALL of us needed to provide input as to what its new name should be. We MAY be a bit over-involved in one anothers’ lives, no?)
Her new name would be “Boey” – pronounced Beau-ee. This may seem like an odd choice, but I’ll give you the background. When JoBear was little, my twin brother, Jay, let him “borrow” his stuffed Paddington Bear. Needless to say, Jay never got that bear back. It quickly became Jonathan’s ‘Bo-Bear” or “Boey.” Boey and Jonathan were inseparable, and I think Nani always had at least 4 extra Paddington’s on hand in case Boey needed emergency surgery.
Where was I? Oh, right. Paige. Holy “setting up the background for a story.” I really know how to stretch things out, don’t I? This is what happens when I stop writing for lengths at a time.
So, all of the grandkids are having to re-learn to call the formerly-known-as-Puddin’ cat Boey. And it’s taking a while, but they’re getting used to it.
Nani and I were discussing Boey on Friday when Paige sauntered into the room (honest to God, I’m pretty sure this child re-defined ‘dramatic entrance’.). She walked up to Nani and Botsie, leaned on to ottoman and this conversation happened:
Paige: “So, did you guys know we changed Abbey’s name?”
Nani (looking at me as I shake my head): “You did?”
P: “Yep. We call her Amber now.”
Um, this is not even a LITTLE bit true. The cat is 11 years old, and I think we’ve pretty much decided she can live out the rest of her days with her “birth name.” I laughed out loud, then became a bit disturbed at the ease with which Paige looked at all of us and flat-out lied. She then went on to tell a story about our cat, and referred to her as “Amber” every time she said her name.
And, you know what? She’s sticking with it. Yesterday morning, she climbed into our bed (at 5-freaking-30 am) and said “Mommy, is Amber in here with you?”
This morning? The cat threw up in our bedroom (honestly, I can’t make this stuff up) and Paige shouted “Oh yuck! Amber just frowed up!”
All areas of our life our like this now. I have to warn people to believe about half (or less) of what Paige says. She is a sneaky little critter, and she thinks it’s HIL-ARIOUS when people believe things she’s made up.
Consider yourselves warned, people.
And, seriously. Stop calling the cat “Amber.”