Trophy TV

So, I'm not B. He's precocious and smart and adorable...but he can't type, nor spell. Thus, this is B's mom.

I've been trying, since he could talk really, to write down and keep track of all the fabulous things that he comes up with. In all honesty, I envy his world view. It's black and white. Its all good guys and bad guys, tacky and gentlemanly, fair and not fair. The leg bone is connected to the foot bone, etc, etc.

So I am truly terrible at keeping track of all the memories I want to hold on to. Plus, all the really funny, insightful things that I just know I don't need to write down, because I'll remember them...those things, are the first things to go. My goal for this blog, is to A.) Actually keep with it, and B.) to use this as a time capsule, and write down the things that are too quickly forgotten.

Enough about me! It's time to introduce B. My oldest son is turning 5 very soon He loves Super heroes, policemen, Legos, his little brother, and TALKING. He's inherited a hard head and lots of charm from his Grandpa, a smidge of OCD from his Momma,  a heart of gold and selective hearing from his Daddy. He loves football and Weird Al music and will make me binge watch "Tacky."

So the subject of my very first B Blog Post is Trophies. What a weird way to start.

Out of the blue today, B asks me, "Momma, are trophies real?"
"Yes, they're real..."
B-"Have you ever seen any?"
"Sweetie, I've got a bunch in the closet."

His eyes lit up, and we immediately had to proceed to the closet so I could dig out Speech and Debate and FHA (he doesn't know yet that Mommy was a nerd) trophies from over a decade ago. It's not often my son looks at me like I'm a Rock Star (or Weird Al), but right then, I felt pretty cool. Cool enough to fetch the step ladder so I could finish fishing all of them from the upper shelves.

Those old trophies were incredibly important to me once, but now they seem like they are from another lifetime.  As I wiped dust off nameplates, I realized he would get so much more out of them than I would. I pick out a nice second-place one with a genie style lamp on the top and tell him he can keep it in his room.

He freaks out a little, and declares it the "best day of his life." Apparently this trumps last Tuesday, when the crane machine gave him three toys and he declared to all of Walmart THAT was the best day of his life.

Daddy gets home, and I get to explain why our four-year-old is parading around the house with an old trophy. After rummaging in the basement, he produces an old participation award from his Christian school, and a football trophy from heaven-knows-when and presents those to B as well.

Now it truly is the BEST BEST DAY OF HIS LIFE.

At some point we hit the whole "If you Give a Mouse a Cookie" conundrum. If you show B the trophies, he will want one, once you give him one, he'll want to see the medals. Then he'll need to wear them. Once you let him wear them, you have to take his picture.

While I'm fetching my phone I hear him tell Daddy, "Look at all Mommy's medals! I can't BELIEVE she never wears them!"

Take his picture with the metals. Now he want's his picture with HIS trophies. Sit down to take the picture, and he starts narrating. Shoot a video instead. I give you, Trophy TV.