Day One Hundred Seventy Eight

The Name Game

 

It's 3 a.m. I woke up to get a drink and can't go back to sleep. The reason? Everybody else in the room is snoring. Rooney is the loudest, followed by her Dad then Jack. It's like a weird trio from an offbeat musical. My mind started spinning so I figured I would just get up and do some writing.

As I was lying there, I thought about nicknames. Don't ask me why. No matter what we actually name things, we end up calling them something random. For example, Jack is Sarge. Rooney is Andy's, Boogaloo and I call her Rooney Toons. Eli is Mr. E or gawdammiteli! Fancy's given name is Troy but he's my Fancy man, or Baboo. Finn is Finnie or Finn Man. Dash is Little Man. Last, but not least, Chance is usually, CHANCE!! 

The other thing I thought about while I was lying there, unable to sleep because of all the noise, is how different things are now than when our kids were little. Back then, Dad was the final word. I could flap my arms and jump up and down like Donald Duck - nobody cared. I was ignored. All my husband had to do was act like he was going to get up from his chair and they would scatter to the farthest reaches of the house. I don't know what they thought he was going to do. He never raised a hand to either of them. But when he got up, they just knew something bad was going to happen. Fear is a great motivator.



The way the kids saw me...noisy but harmless

The way they saw their Dad. Apparently a chicken
hawk is way more intimidating than a duck!

With the creatures living here, it is the exact opposite. To them, Dad is Mr. Chuckles - Mom is the Tasmanian Devil. It's hilarious. Every night, while Andy is trying to coax Jack and Rooney to go out one last time before bed, he can't get so much as a twitch from them. They lie there, doing their best "dead dog" impressions, while he patiently calls them - over and over.

All I have to do is say, "Do I need to get up?" and Jack comes flying from wherever he's been and runs out the door. Then I yell, "ROONEY!" and she levitates two feet off the couch, does a mid air pirouette and runs out the back door. All the while, Andy just shakes his head. I know he wonders what I do to them while he's at work.

I said get up!!

The answer is nothing! I mean, it's not like I carry a cattle prod around with me. And I wouldn't hurt them anyway. I mean, first of all, I don't believe in inflicting pain! Second, me against a Bullmastiff is like a gnat against an elephant. No. It's the fear factor. They don't really know what I'm capable of and they just don't want to find out.

The cats, on the other hand, are a different matter. To get them to "listen" I must entice them first. For Eli, Finn and Chance, if I shake something, they will come running. Now, I could stand there shaking a box of mothballs - they would come running thinking they were going to get a treat. Works every time. I have shaken a box of screws, dog biscuits and a tube of bungee cords. Same reaction no matter what's in the box.

Dash needs a different motivator. His fishing pole with a feather thingy on the end works like a charm. The other day he almost tried to jump across the pool to get to it. Fortunately, he came to his senses in the knick of time and chose to walk around it instead.

Fancy and I started out our relationship calling to each other out in the world, so it's still how we communicate. Even if he really doesn't want to come when I call him, eventually he will - I just give him until he thinks it's his idea.