Just a Little Bit About Jones

1) There's something funny about these pictures. Notice the way Jones is looking gleefully at something? That "something" is himself - well, his reflection - in the mirror of his great-great grandmother Bubba's dresser.


Back in May, I tried to get the dresser into Jones's room, but I "broke my back" trying to get it up the stairs and didn't try again until earlier this month. As I installed the mirror a few weeks ago, I thought to myself, "Hmm. A reflective surface this close to the place where I want my little showman to sleep is probably not a good idea." I immediately envisioned the bed turning into his stage with the mirror making for an audience of one.

I was right, and these pics are proof.

Since then, Jones has spent so many nap times (at bedtime, it doesn't seem to be an issue, probably because he's so tired from all that not napping) singing and dancing for himself that I finally took the mirror off its hinges and hid it behind the dresser. "Please put it back," Jones asked as I did it.

For now? No.

For now, I'm not yet ready to say "Nite nite" to nap time, even though it's increasingly seeming like my almost four-year-old is.

Speaking of "Mama's Little Showman," here are some recent pictures of him in the backyard, looking a little too much like Bob Fosse in my old Mary Poppins hat (with the ribbons removed). Since before Jones was even born, people have asked me if I planned to have my kids involved in theatre. I've always said, "No. If they FIND it themselves, that's fine, but I'm NOT pushing them in that direction."

Jones may very well be "finding it for himself."

Time will tell.

Since they discovered this stump in our backyard,
it's become something of a stage.

2) Mama's Little Lyricist? Speaking of "finding theatre for himself," Jones also seems to be finding his mama's fascination with lyrics. Needless to say, this THRILLS me. Here's an example: as we drove to Greenville this week, it was raining, and instead of singing, "Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun ...," he sang, "Mr. Storm, Storm, Mr. Friendly Storm ..." THAT'S NOT EVEN PART OF THE SONG! HE JUST MADE IT UP HIMSELF!

It sounds so silly to be excited about something so small, but what you probably DON'T know is that I started out changing lyrics right around his same age. The first time I remember doing it was when Barbara Mandrell would sing, "I was country when country wasn't cool ..." and I'd (not so) cleverly switch the lyrics to "I was CHICKEN when CHICKEN wasn't cool." It doesn't even make sense; I know this, but that's STILL the way I sing that song. If they're honest, my parents probably do, too.

Later, I'd change the Judds' "Why not me when the nites get cold / why not me when you're growing old?' to "... / why not me when you're startin' to mold." Obviously, my "tweaks" were hardly sophisticated (I was WAY more interested in silly back then), but I have OFTEN thought how interesting it is that a little lady - whose "interest" in lyrics goes back to when she was three years old - grew up to write a doctoral dissertation about a lady lyric-writer.

Add to that the fact that MY three year old has an interest in lyrics, and it almost makes up for the fact that he looks NOTHING like me.

Almost.

3) Today was our regular day to have lunch with Daddy. When Bible Study was on Wednesday, lunch was on Tuesday. Now that Bible Study is on Tuesday, though, lunch is switched to Thursday. We used to almost always go to Bogart's, but we've gone there less and less - for no particular reason. In fact, I can't remember the last time we actually went to Bogart's. 

Well, as we stood in Jeremy's office today, Jones came over to me, took my hand, and very sweetly yet matter-of-factly said, "I'm hungry, Mama. We can go to Bogart's." It was ADORABLE, and, of course, we went to Bogart's.

I should note here that Freddie begs for Jones's shoes
every time he wears them. Seriously. EVERY.TIME.
He desperately wants Jones's "chockt" shoes.
We shoulda named him Willie Wonka.

4) Because of the tummy troubles I mentioned in a previous post, Jones stayed in the service with us this Sunday. We got in late and sat in the balcony, but Jones did GREAT. He wasn't PERFECT, but he was SO MUCH BETTER than the last time he sat with us. I really love having him in there, and so long as he can handle it, I love it. Anyway, this Sunday, Jones was coloring on the church roll (which we, probably inappropriately, refer to as "the Lamb's Book of Life"). He's color some circles, and then he'd stick Jeremy's pen in his shirt using the EXACT.SAME motion as Jeremy does when he sticks HIS pen in his shirt. It was UNCANNY how meticulously he copied his daddy's motion (even though Jeremy HADN'T done it at church that morning). 

A few minutes later, I sneezed. Jones whispered, "Bless you." He then added in his best sotto voce, which, to be honest, was NOT all that "sotto," "Be quiet. Church is quiet."

He's right, you know. 

Finally, toward the end of the service, I tousled his hair and whispered, "Proud of you, Buddy." He whispered back, "Proud of you, too, Kristin. You make me so proud, and I wub you."