Moodaddy, are you in there?

We were out in the backyard today, playing behind the house, when suddenly Parker grabbed the football and ran. As he reached the soccer goal, he tossed the football ten feet up into the air, and belted out: Oklahoma, in a booming, big-man voice. 

The kid is not yet two, and, thus still a baby in my book. He says "ant" for hand and "nunny" for bunny, (which is of course appropriate evolution from it's orignal moniker, "Nana") So I was a bit taken aback by this sudden multisyllabic expression--much less while sending the football sky high. 

Remembering that he is, after all, clairvoyant, I could only come to one conclusion: he must be channeling his namesake, my long-dead grandfather, the biggest Oklahoma football fan of all times. "Hello Moodaddy," I said to my son (mom's father raised Santa Gertrudis cattle in East Texas, so that's, of course, what we called him,) "If you're in there please give Mimi a kiss for me--oh, and if you can let little Parker know that he needs to go pee and poop on the potty before he can quarterback, I'd really appreciate it."