Little did I know that when I took my nephew, Nicholas, home from preschool I would be spending the afternoon with "Cowboy Nic." When we walked through the front door of Nicholas's home, he immediately ran upstairs to change. Meanwhile, I got out all the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies for his borthers (there's nothing better than coming home from school to freshly baked cookies, right?) I started wondering what was taking Nico so long, so I called up to him to ask if he was still going to help me with the cookies. He quickly responded that he just had to finish buttoning up his shirt. A few minutes later, he came clomping down the stairs in full "Cowboy Nic" attire: plaid button-down shirt, sheriff badge pinned to the chest, leather hat, belt, jeans, and--most importantly-heavy heeled cowboy boots (which where actually a pair of Kim's cast off fashionable low-heeled boots, but that did not bother Nic AT ALL). He clomped into the kitchen, hopped up on a chair and proceeded to help me make the cookies. After the dough was mixed up and plopped onto a cookie sheet (and after taste-testing, of course), Nic jumped back off the chair and continued to clomp around the kitchen, outside deck, garage, front side walk, and back in on the kitchen wood floor. I decided that there must be something very satisfying about the sound of clomping boots to a 6 year-old boy. Nic told me all about cowboy boots and why they are so good for walking in dirt and and desert sand. He then decided he needed to make a cowboy house (which he did on the deck) and then he asked if I would go on a walk with him. Heck yes, I would LOVE to walk the neighborhood with Cowboy Nic. As we headed down the street, we found piles of tree branches and cardboard boxes to clomp and stomp over.
Clomp, clomp, stomp, clomp, clomp.
Into the Sunset.
