Sitting on the Sophie

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Recently, my daughter dropped my three-year-old granddaughter, Sophia, at my house while she kept a dental appointment. Sophia is at a very fun-loving, princessey stage of life and we tend to have great fun together. This visit was no exception.

After some greeting time, I learned Sophie as I call her had not had enough breakfast before she left home. “B-But she ate an entire…” her mother halted in mid astonishment.

No matter, I whipped up a batch of hot buttery toast slathered with peach preserves. Served with a Sippy cup of ice-cold milk, it was an irresistible breakfast treat. My daughter left for her appointment as Sophie finished her “post-breakfast-snack.”

Soon, it was activity time. I asked what she would like to do. Sophie selected pink Play-Doh and several cookie cutter figures.

“Now, turn off the television.” She demanded.

“Uh, okay.” I turned it off with only a trace of resentment that I would miss the morning action in the equity markets. She did not want to share Grandfather with Wall Street. Rats.

Before I knew it, we were making pink snakes, pink bunnies and pink butterflies all over the kitchen table. Pink cherries were next. I rolled a dozen or so spheres and Sophie stacked them like little cannonballs. We even stacked a few of them like pink cherry snowmen.

I still have the [pink] Furby I bought for my daughter when she was four or five. We played with it for a while. Mercifully, it stopped talking around 2007, so it was not interesting for more than a minute. Thank goodness.

One by one, we played with stuffed toys, threw a tea party, built Legos and more. After an hour, Sophie settled down to color in a coloring book. She is more advanced than her older brother. She colors in the general area of the figures on the page. None of the male grandchildren is so dexterous. The hook came when I tried to leave the room to, er, wash my hands.

“I only want to color when you watch me!” she announced.

“Okay, okay. I will stay here as long as I can. Good job! You have a real flair for this! One day you will be a great artist.”

I kept shoveling out the encouragement as she obliterated one figure after another. We both seemed to be having a good time, considering one of us had “to go” and has a chronic sore back.

Then it happened. “Hello! I’m back. Where is everybody?” It was the mommy, come to retrieve her little one.

“We’re upstairs,” I called.

“Baww! Waah! Noooo!” Exclaimed our tyke, wrapping her arms around my leg.

“But Sophia, your mommy missed you and wants to take you home with her.” I tried to console her.

“I don’t wanna gooooo! Waaah!”

It took a while to calm her and I had to agree to carry her to the car and strap her into her federally approved container before she would accompany her mother. I was eager to help because I could see in my daughter’s eyes she was thinking of giving in and going home without her.

I just could not let that happen.

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