They say everyone has a spirit animal. For some, it is an animal that they find comfort in being around – my wife, for example, is a lover of all dogs – while for others it is a reflection of their behaviour.
My oldest son falls in the latter category.
It’s only in the last few days that we have discovered his spirit animal, and as with most things in our home, it’s rather humorous.
Our oldest, after years of not being much of an eater, has finally discovered what his mom and dad already know – food is yummy!
He has broadened his horizons and will try new things, and when he finds thing that he particularly enjoys, he will find ways of getting as much of it as he can.
Take, for example, chicken nuggets. The boy likes his “chicken nuggies”, as the kids say.
One Friday night a few weeks ago, we did what most tired parents do after a busy week at work – cook a batch of chicken nuggets and watch a movie. Our oldest devoured his plate of nuggets in record time, and began to eyeball his siblings’ plates.
His brother finished his food, but his sister left a couple of nuggets on her plate.
After a few minutes, we asked our daughter if she was done with her food.
“Yep! I’m stuffed!” she said.
I went to reach for her plate to take it out to the kitchen, when suddenly a hand reached over and grabbed the nuggets off the plate.
I look up, and the oldest boy has the nuggets shoved in his mouth.
“What? I was hungry!” he says – or at least I think he said, his mouth was full.
“You’re like a raccoon, sneaking food,” I commented.
Yes, my oldest son’s spirit animal is a raccoon.
A few days later, the boy came out to the kitchen asking for a snack.
“How about you finish the goldfish that we took with us to hockey?” I suggest.
“I already ate those,” he replies.
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
Turns out he snuck out to the kitchen and grabbed some food while we weren’t looking.
“You really are a raccoon,” I say.
This happened a few more times over the course of the week. Then one night, after he snuck some more food out of the fridge, I decided to pull the slang out of my vocabulary.
“You really are a Trash Panda, aren’t you?”
That caught his attention.
“What do you mean?”
I explained that Trash Panda is a slang term for raccoon, and that his food-scrounging behaviour resembles that of an urban area’s most resourceful creature.
“I don’t like it,” he said of his new nickname.
I joked with him that if he didn’t stop sneaking my food, I would trap him and take him out to the country, just like I would with a raccoon.
Without missing a beat, he said, “I would find my way back.”
Both my wife and I laughed, with her saying, “That’s what a raccoon would say.”
Later that night, he wandered out of his room claiming he couldn’t sleep.
“I know you are nocturnal by nature, Trash Panda, but it is time for bed,” I told him.
Half asleep, he told me again he didn’t like the nickname, then headed back to bed.
The next morning, I asked him what he didn’t like about the nickname I gave him.
“It’s a stupid name,” he said. “What if I called you a Trash Panda?”
And that is when his sister chimes in.
“Cameron is a Trash Panda!”
“Great, this nickname is never going away!” he replies. “Thanks Dad!”
We can’t all be majestic eagles or fierce wolves. Somebody has to be the resourceful, sly and intelligent Trash Panda.
It also means I need to keep an eye on my snacks…
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Mike Wilson is the editor of Midwestern Newspapers. Comments and feedback are welcome at mwilson@midwesternnewspapers.com.
