Oakment Pogmitts

Charlie has a new game of sorts. It's called Oakment Pogmitts. It's taken me about a week of nagging him incessantly before figuring out how to say it; I took some creative license with the spelling. On my 5th or 6th attempt at trying to get the name right, What is it again, Oakman Pogman? Or is it Oakmitts Pogment? Charlie screamed at me, slowly and with his best enunciation for idiots voice, (as if I were mispronouncing dog or pen), "NO! It is Oak menTTT PoGGG mitSSSSSSSSS!"
The phrase was first mentioned a couple of weeks ago when I was trying to get Charlie down for his nap. He was making a lot of noise and doing his usual procrastination tactics, so I went into his room to tell him to quiet down. He was sitting in his bed, stacking these plastic inserts from the canopy of Gregory's infant car seat. He didn't even look up, he simply said, "I can't, Mommy. I'm preparing for a game of Oakment Pogmitts."
Even more reason to lay down and rest your body for the big game, Charlie. Now go to sleep! This same scenario played out for about another 30 minutes. He never took a nap and OP was not mentioned again, until the next day.
Charlie and I were on our regular Thursday afternoon Mommy-Charlie adventure, which can include anything from a trip to the car wash, the hardware or grocery store. This particular Thursday we were 'adventuring in the hay'. The hay is what Charlie calls the wetlands behind our local mall that have been set aside for hiking and bird watching. Lots of tall grass in which to play hide and go seek, chase birds, etc.
We started running down this trail and Charlie asks if I want to play Oakment Pogmitts? Eagerly I accept his offer and inquire about the rules. He explains that we have to keep running 'superman fast' down the dirt path and when we come to a rock, we have to 'crash over it'. That was it. I must admit, I got into it. Running like a mad woman, screaming Oakment Pogmitts at the top of my lungs was fun, more because I could say it properly, than out of excitement for the game itself.
A few days later I mentioned wanting to play OP again. Charlie said sure. I asked him to remind me of the rules. "Well first, you have to get a pillow. Then you kick it." Okay, what next? "No anything." What do you mean? "No anything. You kick the ball in the kah-kah and then you poopoo peepee it." (crazy maniacal laughter ensues).
Brian and I are obsessed with Oakment Pogmitts now. We wonder what could be happening in our child's brain that he came up with this name? We laugh about it non stop and try to work it into our everyday conversations. "Hey, wanna go into the bedroom and Oakment my Pogmitts?" That's the G-rated version, but you get the idea.
Tonight, Brian decided to broach the subject to see if he could get in on the game. Hey Charlie, can I play Oakment Pogmitts? Charlie sat there in silence, pretty much ignoring him. What is Oakment Pogmitts, he asked again, it sounds like a lot of fun? Charlie just glared at him and said, "I'm not talking." He was like a CIA operative about to be tortured, expressionless and unemotional as he let his captors know they'll never break him.