Need a pronunciation? That’d be “paw-coe-baw-doe-bean.” On our walk today J said, “It means is when you crash and fall down and get back up again.” Yes, there should be a word for that. Pocobawdobean.
Let’s apply it to our situation this evening. G has become quite attached to the stuffed Curious George my mother gave to Jonah. He (George, not Jonah) has been abandoned to the window box for months until G claimed him as sleeping companion. This went unnoticed by J for many days until one night it was proclaimed, “But that’s MY Curious George. I don’t think you understand! He (G) doesn’t know the rules!” Still, somehow G continued sleeping with George for another week or so.
Then all hell. Broke loose. Major meltdown the week before Christmas. After much negotiating and appealing (using the “You’re the older brother; G just doesn’t understand yet” line of reasoning), it was decided that J would get G his own Georgie (as G calls him) for Christmas. Jonah was excited and waited daily for a box in the mail. George was wrapped and given. All seemed content. (See video.)
In the meantime, Original George went missing. This was not catastrophic, as J’s main complaint was that G had claimed George, not that J actually wanted to sleep with him (after all, he’s got the ultimate lovey—my husband). Until tonight. I found Original George under a pile of folders in my closet. Much happiness all around. We continued to supper, then bedtime.
Then all hell again. Broke loose. But this time, we experienced simultaneously meltdowns. It was hilarious really, if the boys hadn’t been so distressed. Turns out, G really does know the difference. New George doesn’t hold a candle to Original George, and no substitute would be had. This put J into conniptions. Somehow G snatched Original George away, and I spent a good fifteen minutes consoling Jonah, trying to work out a deal (again using the older brother line). Much to Jonah’s credit, he did not do his brother any physical harm to get Original George back. Just when I had him turned, John reappeared with Gabriel (not knowing what had transpired between Jonah and I), and tried the ‘ol switch-a-roo. Simultaneous meltdowns again ensued.
While Jonah and I cooled down in the kitchen (as John and G read a book together upstairs, with Original George), we started talking again about pocobadobean and how it might apply to our situation. Yes, I brought it up, simply as a way to distract him from the terrible injustice he had undergone. J seemed to understand the concept of having a bad time of it (meltdown=the crash and fall) and the need to try again (getting back up). “Sometimes I mess up, and I have to try again,” he said. Me too, buddy. Like every five minutes. I am grateful for his (at least philosophical) interest in persistence. Coupled with his Jonah magic, persistence is what will help him make his way through this crazy and confusing world.
That, and his knack for making up great words. My maybe most favorite is fransome (his personal take on handsome). It means beautiful and good. And he completely cracks me up when he says it. He gets this little-girl-who-just-fell-in-love-with-the-prince(or pony)-of-her-dreams-voice on: “Isn’t it fransome?” (Heavy accent on the “fran”.) I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. There just isn’t anybody like him.