Stoney Davis

Back during the Christmas shopping season, I happened to come upon a DVD on Amazon, that I thought might capture my kid's attention.  (With the exception of Megan, rarely do my kids watch a movie from beginning to end.)  Upon arrival of  the DVD in the mail, I began to have second thoughts about giving it to Luke for Christmas.  I thought he would be somewhat disappointed to receive a DVD, even if it was about a horse.

A few days later, Mike and I were leaving Megan in charge to babysit one evening.  To help ease Megan's burden of four children, (three of which get very hard to manage for her) I decided to call upon my 'magic skills' and abracadabera-d a movie, 'Horse Crazy .'

That evening we came home to four very happy children, who could.not.stop.talking. about the movie. "Tyler," "Wild Mustangs," "Nevada," "Stoney Davis," etc. etc.  All the kids watched it again twice the next day.  That night, Mike watched it with them.  Monday, while the kids were at school, Joshua wanted to watch it again.  Only problem was, he snapped it in half getting it out of the case.

To make a long story short, a few weeks later, Nana replaced the ever-mourned, 'Horse Crazy' DVD.  That day the children watched it two times.  It has been watched at least daily ever since.

All day, everyday, Joshua dresses up in some home-made chaps and vest (thank you Halloween 2007), too-big cowboy boots with spurs, black cowboy hat of Lukes and with two ropes wrapped around his arms, he recites,

"My name is Stoney Davis. I from da gwate tate of Texas.  In Texas I ride quawter horses and live on a tousand acre wanch."

And then he sits down to watch the movie.

Except sometimes, he just recites the line while doing something else.  (It is stuck in his head, just like a line to a song.)

(In fact, it has even happened to me.  One day I found myself busy with my own tasks, several times beginning to say, "My name is Stony Davis...")

To make the story even shorter.

I had a temper tantrum the other night.  Yes, you read that right.  Me, the mother, had a temper tantrum.  It went something like this.

"I.AM.DONE.
I AM DONE!
NO MORE STONEY DAVIS.
I CAN'T STAND IT. I AM CONSTANTLY TRIPPING OVER ROPES, OR SPURS OR COWBOY HATS.
I DO NOT WANT TO TIE THE CHAPS ONE MORE TIME.
I CAN'T EVEN STAND THE MOVIE, I HAVE THE WHOLE THING MEMORIZED AND I'VE NEVER EVEN SAT AND WATCHED IT.
PLUS, THAT OLDER BROTHER IS A BAD ACTOR, I AM DONE!"

And with more than a little drama, I scooped up the cowboy boots and spurs and put them in a high cupboard. I ordered Luke to hide the chaps and vest in the dress-up box.  I opened the mud-room door and threw the ropes in the garage. And for added effect, I slammed the door.

Obviously, no one was on my side.  The next morning, all the kids were at school.  Drew was napping,  I was on my bedroom floor folding laundry.  Quietly, and very sweetly, I hear.  "Can you help me put on da chaps? I gonna be Stoney Davis.  Where are da wopes?"

I have decided to really hear the words of our dear, 'grandpa-aged' friend.  Last night he said, "One day, you'll miss having the ropes to pick up or the boots to trip over."

And so, I guess, I'm not done.
Stoney Davis is part of our family.
At least, for now.