Who's the Fat Lady?

About 7:00 a.m. on Sunday morning Ian climbed into my bed and I guess, somehow, I accidentally rolled over his arm. He didn't complain about it at all, but later marched on down to Mimi and Papa's for "something." He wouldn't disclose what that "something" was. About 15 minutes later he walked up with his right arm completely wrapped, from wrist to shoulder, in an ace bandage.
"What you got there, Buddy?" I asked.
"It's an R.C. Willey bandage," he said proudly.
"A what?" I didn't even get it.
"An R.C. Willey bandage." He repeated. Then, I started laughing. Ace Hardware, R.C. Willey. What is the difference really? When I wouldn't let him wear a long sleeve shirt and gloves to church, he tired of the "R.C. Willey" bandage and took it off.
Later that night he was wrestling with Whit. I yelled, "Dog Pile on Whit!"
Ian jumped on and I went to jump on him and he screamed, "Wait! I don't want a fat lady on me!"
"Who's the fat lady?" I asked.
Later as I retold the story and said again, "Who's the fat lady?" Sophie laughed right out loud over her dinner. I guess I must be the fat lady.