Monday, November 26, 2007

"When I Was Young and Full of Grace"

I believe, when my aunt labeled the Wee Niblet "irrepressible," that she saved me at least twenty-three minutes of racking my brain to find the most apropos adjective for the little nutter. Indeed, without her astute assessment of him, I might have thoughtlessly described the lad as merely "zestful" or "bubbling."

What a mistake that would have been, for he and his occasional mohawk efortlessly infuse twelve thousand bubbles, with small lungs and a twisty straw, into piles of unsuspecting zest, shake them to the tune of a mambo, stir the concoction with Mad Maxian vigor, and top it all off with an olive (or rather, ten of them, pitted, each waggling on the tip of a grubby finger).

Niblet is four. Niblet has remarkable mojo.

It is rising.

Placing a call on his hot dog phone

His days begin when he rolls into our bedroom, climbs into the parental bed, and starts kneading my belly, elbow skin, and neck folds (there are no greater expressions of affection from this tactile preschooler). After a bit of a cuddle, he's ready to "watch," a half-hour that has him singing and dancing in front of the tv...unless his watching gets derailed by a pick-up round of "Animal School" with his Girl sister. When they play Animal School, she teaches; naturally, he is a student and sits in his assigned place among the penguins, unicorns, bats, and gorillas. So effortless is his popularity that he may run for Animal School Council (they need a new treasurer).

As he watches or plays, Der Niblet munches on his breakfast of beef jerky, pickles, and/or croutons. By 9 a.m., his visionary and entrepreneurial spirit has awakened, and we find ourselves making helmets that are half-alien, half-dinosaur. Generally, the purpose of the helmet is not specifically revealed, but we're amenable to pitching in because participating in the process means that we have license to make a whole lot of googly eyes and antennae--honest work that keeps us out of the meth lab. Plus, he needs an assist with the hot glue gun.

In between projects, there is some dabbling with chess, playing Camel Poop Care Bears with the neighbor girl, organizing his Pokemon binder, breaking eggs for the pizza dough, and cutting up National Geographic magazines. At some point during this agenda, The Boy Hurricane either makes a case for it being a pajama day or for wearing tights, a sportcoat, and a Frankenstein tie.

Best of all, while his given name is fairly unique in the U.S., setting him apart in any classroom or puke-ridden ball pit, he finds it unsatisfactory. Several months ago, as Niblet sat in his sweat lodge, toying with his ceremonial pipe, a new name delivered itself to our chap, a name that he, in turn, revealed to us. It is his true name, he maintains, and it should be the only one we use to address him.

It is Dinko.

Certainly, I slip up. Sometimes my mistakes slide by; sometimes I am quietly but firmly reminded of his Dinko-ishness. Sometimes he'd like to reprimand me for being so absent/neglectful/audacious as to not recall my own son's name.

But then he spots his little sewing machine or a bag of magnets across the room, and he's gone. I am temporarily off the Dinko hook.



Of course, when he trips up to me, three minutes later, holding a pop-up book about King Tutankhamun in hand, I'm back in the hot (glue gun) seat. You see, Dinko is adamant about the pronuciation of that dead pharaoh's name, and when I read it with its traditional inflection, the boy grounds me with a glare and an exasperated: "Maw-om, it's Too-kin-ham!"

Quickly forgiven once I apologize and practice, I am then invited over to his ever-evolving diarama of King Too-kin-ham's barge, where my finer motor controls are required--to tape in a few new loaves of bread and storage barrels. The whole thing is made out of grocery bags, chopsticks, and unfettered whimsy.

Dinko's days are full; he has many departments, from barges to monster-making, that require constant attention.


Frankly, we can't figure out from whence all this zany caprice stems.




Although the origins of his character are murky, it is clear that Dinko is a one-man goof troupe.

This, I believe.

33 comments:

kimber the wolfgrrrl said...

Love the 'stache. Honestly, I don't know why I bother with waxing, when I could just dye it with lime jello and look so fabulous.

Top cat said...

What a loveable little character.
I think it's safe to say the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.:)
tc

furiousBall said...

Whew, good thing I didn't change my icon to the picture of me with the same glasses and mustache on, that would have been quite embarrassing.

Now, for some reason I have Peter Garbiel's Biko in my head with Dinko substituted in the chorus. And anyone else who reads this will too. You're welcome.

Franki said...

furiousB - i hate you.

Franki said...

P.S. I'm having a party soon. Could Dinko please come? He sounds fun.

Claire said...

Dinko is my kinda dude. It is wonderful that you are fully engaged with his creative antics. Love and cherish all these times cuz before you know it he'll be bench pressing you.

Tai said...

Suddenly I have an alarming vision of a meth lab made with unfettered whimsy.
Don't those ones usually blow up?

:)

geewits said...

Dee Eye In Kay Oh
And Dinko was his name-O!

AmyTree said...

God he's cute. My little brother used to insist on going to nursery school in a white shirt and blue (clip-on) tie. My mom still laughs about how she went to pick him up one day and he had been given a time out (for he, too, was 'irresponsible') and there he was, sitting in a huge rocking chair in the corner, 4 years old, solemn in a shirt and tie...

Voyager said...

What a wonderful celebration of your unique boy. You are both blessed to have each other.
V.

frannie said...

I have a friend that went through a phase where he would only be called "Elroy" from the Jettson's. he refused to answer to anything else.

Diana said...

You are right, there, Mom o' Dinko. It's a real puzzler where he could have gotten any of his verve and whimsy and zest from. I hear it skips generations, so you might want to look at some lesser aunts or 5th cousins on Groom's side.

You had said a bit ago that you wished Dinko and Sara were best friends. I wish it fervently, as if they were, I could send her over for advanced glue gunning and accessorizing tips for using googly eyes and turquoise faux fur. She gets not such help from me.

Sigh.

lime said...

may i borrow him for a while? creative 4 year olds are so much more fun than surly adolescents. you can come too and i will take you all to the the crayola factory!

Maddy said...

Lovely post, lovely family dynamics and so darned busy!
Cheers

Theresa said...

Now you just have to come up with a new name for yourself that goes well with Dinko. Dinko, Dinko...let me thinko, what rhymes with Dinko?

Jazz said...

I love kids that age. They've become human (i.e. they can hold a conversation) and aren't yet blasé about the world.

Wayfarer Scientista said...

love the hair...and of course, mr. dinko.

Shari said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Shari said...

Love the new look. I think I see a new fashion trend. What talent Dinko has.

actonbell said...

Such a happy family! Congrats on raising such a delightful Dinko:)

jen said...

you are such a wild and wonderful family, i am consistently inspired by you, sister. you LIVE in this world. good for you.

August said...

Oh my god, please let me babysit Dinko.

Stepping Over the Junk said...

I can't stop giggling! I want to come visit your house! "Hot dog phone" and "camel poop"!

urban-urchin said...

you had me at breakfast (I am off as soon as I'm done here to scour the cupboards for beef jerky!) but the sewing machine? I am a loyal Dinkoite for life!

Hammer said...

Those days were fun when I was that age and when my kids were as well.

Those are the best times.

Jamie said...

And I thought I was the only one who ate beef jerky, pickles, and/or croutons for breakfast. Hail, Dinko!

Lisa said...

I really could use some of his mojo and sewing skills...and some of your writing skills. You have tickled me to pieces today! I love that I have found your blog.

cathy said...

Goodness, I'm exhausted. I just can't keep up with you guys!

Excuse me while I wake my docile little plasteline animal zoo lover. I must tell her that tuna and gherkins is a normal breakfast afterall. LOL!

August said...

Hey, Joc

I was going to tag you to take the questionnaire challenge from my blog, but now I'm thinking I'd like to ask Dinko instead!

Can't get enough of your cuckoo world. I don't know how many people I've read your posts to.

So happy to have found you, thanks to Ms. Puss.

Glamourpuss said...

You can never have enough whimsy. And 'Dinko' is fine - at least it's not 'Barbara', then you'd have a whole lot of other things to worry about.

Puss

velvet said...

That Dinko is awesome! I love boy energy. And he's a real keeper.

And I'll have to agree about the apple and the tree thing. Your whole little household is incredibly unique and wonderful. ;-)

Mother of Invention said...

Sounds like such a neat kid with a ken imagination. he will never be bored and have to rely on you to suggest activities. Very refreshing in this day where the toys themselves do all the playing for them!

Princess Pointful said...

The unicycle makes a lot more sense in this context.

I miss childhood, when multitasking was a thing of joy.