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Yonder’s Some New Ericisms, Y’all…

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The boy has recently decided he was placed on this planet to be a cowboy. He’s fascinated by all things even remotely cowboy-ish. His love for plaid shirts with snaps borders on the unhealthy, and he’s rarely seen these days without his cowboy hat and a stick of grass or a toothpick hanging outa his toothless little mouth. I’d tell him he’s cute, but he’d challenge me to pistols at dawn.

As is usually the case, he’s said some funny things since this obsession has taken hold:

(I was cooking, and realized I did not have all the necessary ingredients. Eric sauntered in…)
“Aww, crap,” I said, looking into the pantry.
Sighing deeply, Eric said, “Man, I wish I was allowed to say that.”

(Being a cowboy requires some supplies Eric recently realized he’s in need of. He brought his concerns promptly to me…)
“Hey mom, we need to git (he say “git” now-I’m so proud) me a cowboy vest, cowboy boots, a cowboy belt, and, oh yeah, a holster.”

(He walked in this morning in full cowboy regalia: plaid shirt with snaps, hat, toothpick, jeans, and with his thumbs firmly hooked into his belt loops, he announced…)
“I’m a law-er.” For those of you who don’t read phonetically written language well, he was attempting a southern version of “lawyer”, and, even more humorous is the fact that he meant “logger” because of this song:

Providing us with a little cowboy trivia, the youngster brandished his orange plastic six-shooters, and told us, “Cowboys shoot Indians, a little sum’n like this” POW! POW! POW!

You can call him “Hoss.”

I attempted to get the future Texas Ranger to focus on some book-learnin’, which he found unnecessary and tedious, being as there was scoundrels to chase and varmints to shoot. The following discussion was during spelling:
“What’s the next word, Eric?”
“Happy. Cowboys don’t use that word.” He then shot at me with his plastic hand cannon. “That’s fer puttin’ it on my spelling list.”

Running into the kitchen, he yelled, “Mom, git me some beans!”

Don’t he jist look as cute as a slab a butter meltin’ on a stack a hotcakes?


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