Skippy has been sick for a week. Fever, cough…you know the story. We have had to spend a couple of nights on the sectional in the family room. The cough was keeping Dillon awake, since they share a room. Dillon gets up at 5:00 a.m. for an early-morning scripture study class, and then runs track after school…he can’t stay up all night. It wasn’t bad spending some quality time with the Skipster.
DK asked me today if I knew where Skippy’s name came from. Actually, I did not. He said that he was always creeped out by that clown on the ice cream cone box…whose name was Scoopy. So he started calling our adorable seventh-born “Scoopy.” But the rest of us apparently never realized that was what he was saying, and it turned into Skippy...and then stuck.
I know. It kind of makes you wonder about DK, doesn’t it? He has always had a fascination with the macabre. He used to read stories to the kids. There was one that talked about daddies. “Porcupine daddy is a prickly daddy.” As if that one wasn’t weird enough, he added his own into the mix: “Guppy daddy is a dangerous daddy!” Yes, guppies eat their own young. He also delighted in reading from a morbidly fascinating vintage book, called “Struwwelpeter,” (shock-headed Peter). It is a book of tales designed to terrify young children into obedience…for instance, in one, a disobedient child sucks his thumb and has it snipped off.
Maybe DK has it right…our children have been exceptionally obedient and respectful. And mostly non-thumb-sucking. In the middle of the night, Skippy woke me up and said, “Mama, are you cold? You can hold me and get under my blankie…” That’s my Skippy. And I don’t think we have even read to him yet from Struwwelpeter. I guess it doesn’t hurt to have an ace in the hole.