*: Rippy, not Ripken

Recently I was talking to Rippy and referred to him as "Ripken." He told me "No Mama. I not Ripken. I Rippy." And, it is true, he is definitely Rippy. I doubt if ever a child has been bestowed with a name better matched to the entirety of his personality than this boy is to Rippy. It was actually Ainsleigh who came up with his nickname, before he was even born. We were talking about baby Ripken one night with her and she started calling him Rippy and, clearly, it stuck. I'm sure it would have happened eventually, but sister (as he calls her) nailed it.

When Rippy grows up, he will probably go by Ripken or maybe even Finn (his actual first name... that's a whole 'nother story). And at this point, I have two guesses as to what he may be when he grows up, or at least when he is in his 20s.

My first prediction is that he will be an indie rocker. While he tolerates other music (including my beloved goo goo dolls), he obviously prefers the indie bands. He will ask for certain songs on request, tell me which ones to skip, and when we get to his favorites he will tell me "This is a good song" or "This is a pretty song" or "I like this song." And since all of this takes place in the car as we criss-cross town, he is in the back seat bopping his head along in his car seat (they are quite restrictive when it comes to a full out boogie).

Currently I'd say his two favorite groups are Band of Horses and The Decemberists. Then again, that's all that I've been spinning the past few weeks so it is hard to say otherwise. But even on a mix cd he's picked out these two groups so I think it is accurate.

His two favorite songs are The Great Salt Lake by Band of Horses and Crane Wife 3 by The Decemberists. Click for a listen. The boy has taste.

So what instrument will he play in his indie rock band? I'm going with drummer. So for Christmas, he's getting this:

Maybe it will prevent him from drumming on inappropriate household objects, as he currently does. I also realize this could completely backfire. I'm willing to take that risk in the name of encouraging dreams.

My second prediction for Rippy's future is as a shoe designer. A number of months ago he fell in love with Ainsleigh's silver sparkley shoes. Whenever she's not around, and sometimes when she is but he just can't help himself, he puts them on and wears them around the house. Austin hates this; I love it. Maybe one such time while he was so bedazzled I asked him to say "It's a hot mess." Instead, he declared "I'm a hot mess." Even better. And, that boy is a hot mess, it is very true.

Further and more definite proof came a few weeks ago when he and I took the day off and went shoe shopping. He found a pair of shoes and brought them over to me, saying "They're so pretty, Mama!" But the thing was, they were so pretty. The were extremly stylish red flats that I cannot find a suitable picture or even approximation to show you, but they were nearly patent (not quite that shiny but some definite luster going on) with some interesting texture throughout and two thin straps with silver buckles across the square toe box. I would have bought them but they did not have my size. But it's not a stretch to say he picked out the most stylish pair of shoes that was there.

So for all of these reasons, my second prediction for Rippy is a shoe designer. I'm not sure what that warrants for Christmas. Except maybe something like this for him to drool over: