…
Despite a life that often mimics a Chinese Fire Drill; I had the pleasure of entertaining one of my three favorite grandsons (so far) over a recent weekend. August, AKA “Augie”, showed up on Saturday afternoon. The usual activities entertained us; reading, jigsaw puzzles (He is a 3-year-old jigsaw genius.), movies and eating from the pantry of goodies. Finally, around eight o’clock, we agreed it was time for bed. Augie wanted to sleep in the “big bed” with Grandfather. I said okay. We both looked forward to a restful ten hours of shut-eye. Instead, we had the following conversation, beginning roughly at lights-out.
“Gwandfather?”
“Yes, Augie.”
“Gwandfather, I’m not comfortable.”
“Okay, find a position that is comfortable.
Augie began flopping, rolling and flailing about under – and above – the covers. This continued for about 20 minutes. After that, we had ten minutes of quiet and stillness.
“Gwandfather, I am thirsty.”
“Huh? Oh. Okay. Just let me turn on the water drinking light…”
I snapped on the bedside lamp and picked up the large glass of water I keep beside the bed. I held it out for the boy and he eagerly slurped it up.
“Had enough? Okay then, let’s get back to sleeping. Close those eyes, now,” I admonished gently. I fell into a deep sleep, almost instantly.
“Gwandfather?”
“Yes, Augie?”
“Gwandfather, I dreamed a bear took the underwear off the triceratops horn and ripped them all up.”
"That’s nice. Let’s not worry about that right now, okay? Let’s get a little sleep. How does that sound?"
He agreed and we fell asleep, I think.
“Gwandfather, it is morning. Can we get up now?”
“What the…” I squinted at the clock with sleep-drugged eyes. It said it was 2:20 A.M. “Augie, it IS technically morning, but it is still time to sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time to get up, okay?"
He agreed and we laid our sleep heads on the pillows once more.
"Gwandfather, I' thirsty."
"Okay, I'll get the water."
"Gwandfather, you forgot to turn on the water drinking light."
"We don't need it. Just feel around with your lips until you find the glass."
I shoved the water glass in his general direction. After a few seconds, his little lips latched onto the glass and the slurping resumed.
"Have you had enough?"
"Yes, Gwandfather. Thank you."
"Okay. G'night, Augie. Sweet dreams."
“Raaarrrrhhh!.”
"Eeaaarrgggh! What the [bleep] was that?”
“That is the sound my dragon makes.”
Augie held up a shadowy figure of a plush dragon. It was one of a dozen little stuffed friends helping him get comfortable.
“Okay, let the dragon have a little rest, too, okay? Please?” I crashed.
"Gwandfather, what was that sound?"
"Oh, probably just some old man, tying a noose to the ceiling fan. It is nothing to worry about. Now, let’s see who can pretend to be asleep the longest.” [z]
“Snoooorrrt! My nose is clogged up.”
“So I hear. Would you like some nose spray? I have some saline spray to make it better."
He declined, graciously and said he would be fine without it. I collapsed onto the pillow.
"Snoooorrrt!"
"I’m cold."
“Here let me help you get under the covers. If you are still cold, you can snuggle up with me and I’ll keep you warm.”
With that, Augie began wiggling and kicking under the covers. When he stopped an hour later, he was snuggled against my back with his elbows and knees planted firmly in my kidneys and spine. I was still half-asleep and willing to settle.
“My little tummy is growling. It sounds like this: Grrrrrble, Gurgle.”
“Say, that’s a pretty good impression. I guess that means your tummy is sleepy, right?”
“No, that means my tummy is hungry.”
“We’ll have breakfast soon. Just let me lie here awhile longer,” I begged.
“Gwandfather?”
“Yes, Augie?”
“I tooted.”
“Okay, let’s go see what’s for breakfast…”
We walked down the stairs and waded in to a new day. We ate hearty, played indoors and out. I even managed to stay awake long enough to read a story or two. Eventually, the gods showed mercy and Augie’s mother retrieved him. He pretended he didn't want to go, but I told him we have to bear up under adversity, like big boys.
It was a challenge, but I am happy we did it. It makes the rest of my life seem so much easier.
…
Showing posts with label grandfather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandfather. Show all posts
Monday, April 18, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Life’s Lessons: Going to the Dogs
…
The big day arrived right on time. At 0830, the back door swung open and my granddaughter and her mom swarmed in from the morning chill. My daughter had an early meeting at her office and all the good childcare people in her life had suddenly moved out of state. I was all she had left.
My daughter flung Sophia’s backpack onto the hearth, blurted out a lifetime of child rearing instructions, hugged and kissed everyone several times and “Poof!” She was gone.
I wasted no time implementing my cunning plan.
Step 1 was breakfast of cereal and fruit. At the end of the day, Sophia reported to mommy “we had breakfast with dessert.” I can live with that.
Step 2 began as a surprise ride in Grandfather’s truck. We went directly to the largest store with the largest toy department in the area, Super Target. I put the little girl in the basket seat and off we went. After travelling about twenty feet, she spotted a display of “Stickers.” With Valentine’s Day almost upon us, I could not resist her request to “pull over!” After considering her choices, she picked out some princess stickers for herself and a batch of care bear stickers for her big brother. “Aw, how thoughtful,” I reflected.
Step 3 involved slowly making our way along every aisle in the toy department. Most of the “toys” currently for sale would give nightmares to a combat Marine. It took quite a bit of searching before we discovered a box of puzzles with a princess motif for my granddaughter. Not wanting to be left out, I added a deluxe Wiffle Ball set to the basket. We have needed one of these for several years, y’know.
Step 4 was lunch. I was really in the mood for Bar-B-Que, so I headed for “Memphis Red Hot ‘n Blue.” (MRH&B) I was sure we could find something for Sophia, too.
We did. She slurped her milk and snacked on cheese fries until her creamy macaroni and cheese arrived with a side of, you guessed it, more French fries. I will not even attempt to describe my meal. If you have even been to MRH&B, you can imagine. If not, you would never understand. [urp.]
Step 5 should have been a nap, but it was not. Instead, we visited Remus the dog at my son’s house. It was a stroke of luck that Sophia’s boy cousins, August and Joshua, had just awakened from their naps when we arrived. The two boys and the two girls, Sophia and Remus, played at full throttle for the next two hours. The entire mansion shook in their gleeful swath of destruction. My son and I sat in the den, watching TV and dozing as peacefully as we could under the circumstances. After about two hours, I captured my charge and ruined their fun. After lots of hugging and waving, we pulled out of the driveway and headed home.
Step 6 began when we reached my dwelling on the edge of the forest. We were both showing signs of fatigue. I prepared cookies and milk for my girl and set about picking up some debris in the den.
A small voice said “Grandfather, I frew up.”
“Huh?” I said, looking around.
“I frew up.”
Then, I looked down. “What happened?”
“I frew up, Grandfather.”
She was drooling and her little eyes were watery. Clearly, she did not feel well.
“Uh Oh. Where did you throw up, sweetie?”
“Right there,” she said indicating the floor between us.
Well, it was not my office, so she got credit there. It was only the carpet in the den. As I considered my next move, Sophia stuck her delicate finger down her throat and began again.
“NOOOOOooooo!” I said as soothingly as I could.
The big day arrived right on time. At 0830, the back door swung open and my granddaughter and her mom swarmed in from the morning chill. My daughter had an early meeting at her office and all the good childcare people in her life had suddenly moved out of state. I was all she had left.
My daughter flung Sophia’s backpack onto the hearth, blurted out a lifetime of child rearing instructions, hugged and kissed everyone several times and “Poof!” She was gone.
I wasted no time implementing my cunning plan.
Step 1 was breakfast of cereal and fruit. At the end of the day, Sophia reported to mommy “we had breakfast with dessert.” I can live with that.
Step 2 began as a surprise ride in Grandfather’s truck. We went directly to the largest store with the largest toy department in the area, Super Target. I put the little girl in the basket seat and off we went. After travelling about twenty feet, she spotted a display of “Stickers.” With Valentine’s Day almost upon us, I could not resist her request to “pull over!” After considering her choices, she picked out some princess stickers for herself and a batch of care bear stickers for her big brother. “Aw, how thoughtful,” I reflected.
Step 3 involved slowly making our way along every aisle in the toy department. Most of the “toys” currently for sale would give nightmares to a combat Marine. It took quite a bit of searching before we discovered a box of puzzles with a princess motif for my granddaughter. Not wanting to be left out, I added a deluxe Wiffle Ball set to the basket. We have needed one of these for several years, y’know.
Step 4 was lunch. I was really in the mood for Bar-B-Que, so I headed for “Memphis Red Hot ‘n Blue.” (MRH&B) I was sure we could find something for Sophia, too.
We did. She slurped her milk and snacked on cheese fries until her creamy macaroni and cheese arrived with a side of, you guessed it, more French fries. I will not even attempt to describe my meal. If you have even been to MRH&B, you can imagine. If not, you would never understand. [urp.]
Step 5 should have been a nap, but it was not. Instead, we visited Remus the dog at my son’s house. It was a stroke of luck that Sophia’s boy cousins, August and Joshua, had just awakened from their naps when we arrived. The two boys and the two girls, Sophia and Remus, played at full throttle for the next two hours. The entire mansion shook in their gleeful swath of destruction. My son and I sat in the den, watching TV and dozing as peacefully as we could under the circumstances. After about two hours, I captured my charge and ruined their fun. After lots of hugging and waving, we pulled out of the driveway and headed home.
Step 6 began when we reached my dwelling on the edge of the forest. We were both showing signs of fatigue. I prepared cookies and milk for my girl and set about picking up some debris in the den.
A small voice said “Grandfather, I frew up.”
“Huh?” I said, looking around.
“I frew up.”
Then, I looked down. “What happened?”
“I frew up, Grandfather.”
She was drooling and her little eyes were watery. Clearly, she did not feel well.
“Uh Oh. Where did you throw up, sweetie?”
“Right there,” she said indicating the floor between us.
Well, it was not my office, so she got credit there. It was only the carpet in the den. As I considered my next move, Sophia stuck her delicate finger down her throat and began again.
“NOOOOOooooo!” I said as soothingly as I could.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Weekend at Grandfather's
[Monday, Nov. 23, 2009] My lovely daughter and her husband just left with their two delightful children. Thank goodness. I watched over the two angels since last Friday afternoon and I am completely whipped.
A few weeks ago one of my loyal readers suggested I have a “massive sleepover” for my grandchildren. Naturally, I dismissed the idea as madness. Don’t get me wrong. I love the grandchildren with all my heart. I am also fond of nights of uninterrupted sleep, violent TV programs, spicy food and adult beverages. I also enjoy intervals of silence lasting more than ten seconds. In short, all the things that are good for grandfather are anathema to the children. Imagine my surprise when I found myself agreeing to keep my daughter’s two babies over a long weekend. I found myself saying “Sure.” when I expected to say “Oh, Hell no!”
It is too late to cry over spilled milk. The children dribbled, sprayed and splashed more than a quart of the stuff about the house over the weekend. It won’t help to cry over the chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, apples, juice, chocolate kisses, popcorn or any other foodstuff, either. They simply disappeared. The ants who come in to clean will find them, eventually.
When they arrived, a sense of excitement over the upcoming adventure filled their little hearts. “They’ve been looking forward to this all week.” Said Mommy. Looking back, maybe the parents should have brought Rhinoceros grade tranquilizer darts as part of the kit. I would have shot myself almost immediately after their departure, if only I had them available.
When it was time for mom and dad to leave, all bets were off. The sense of adventure vanished and a sense of abandonment and terror set in. I have seldom heard such wailing and pleading in my life. Somehow, mom and dad bore up under the emotional assault and fled for a romantic escape to the snowy slopes of Utah. Me? I continued to wail and plead for some time after they drove away.
My daughter furnished manuals describing bedtime and other essential rituals. It said, “Bedtime is between 7:30 and 8:00 p.m.” At the appropriate time, I jammied the two urchins and brushed their tiny teeth. Then I popped them in bed where they continued howling for mommy for the next few hours. When mommy did not appear, they wept as if I murdered a puppy before their innocent little eyes. I began feeling panic and depression. At dawn, the little ones capitulated and slept the rest of the night.
“That went well.” I lied.
Ultimately, I abandoned hope and devoted myself to getting through ten-minute intervals, one after the other. My life became a predictable series of chicken strips, apple juice, clean-ups, diapers, oatmeal, lost toys, clean-ups, boo-boos, snits, spats, clean-ups, bribes, heart-warming smiles and loving hugs.
When the parents returned on Monday afternoon, I noticed some remarkable changes. First, I learned some people are born mothers and others have motherhood thrust upon them. Even though it almost [?] cost me my sanity, I became a mom (or dad), pro tempore. Even the grandchildren slipped up and called me “Mommy” or “Daddy” a couple of times. We shall disregard the other names.
Second, I am certain I shall need a vacation in the immediate future. I am thinking of snowy Utah, or perhaps Banff, Canada. In six weeks, I could be as good as new. Almost. Mothers are certainly made of stern stuff.
Eva, how can I ever repay you?
A few weeks ago one of my loyal readers suggested I have a “massive sleepover” for my grandchildren. Naturally, I dismissed the idea as madness. Don’t get me wrong. I love the grandchildren with all my heart. I am also fond of nights of uninterrupted sleep, violent TV programs, spicy food and adult beverages. I also enjoy intervals of silence lasting more than ten seconds. In short, all the things that are good for grandfather are anathema to the children. Imagine my surprise when I found myself agreeing to keep my daughter’s two babies over a long weekend. I found myself saying “Sure.” when I expected to say “Oh, Hell no!”
It is too late to cry over spilled milk. The children dribbled, sprayed and splashed more than a quart of the stuff about the house over the weekend. It won’t help to cry over the chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, apples, juice, chocolate kisses, popcorn or any other foodstuff, either. They simply disappeared. The ants who come in to clean will find them, eventually.
When they arrived, a sense of excitement over the upcoming adventure filled their little hearts. “They’ve been looking forward to this all week.” Said Mommy. Looking back, maybe the parents should have brought Rhinoceros grade tranquilizer darts as part of the kit. I would have shot myself almost immediately after their departure, if only I had them available.
My daughter furnished manuals describing bedtime and other essential rituals. It said, “Bedtime is between 7:30 and 8:00 p.m.” At the appropriate time, I jammied the two urchins and brushed their tiny teeth. Then I popped them in bed where they continued howling for mommy for the next few hours. When mommy did not appear, they wept as if I murdered a puppy before their innocent little eyes. I began feeling panic and depression. At dawn, the little ones capitulated and slept the rest of the night.
“That went well.” I lied.
Ultimately, I abandoned hope and devoted myself to getting through ten-minute intervals, one after the other. My life became a predictable series of chicken strips, apple juice, clean-ups, diapers, oatmeal, lost toys, clean-ups, boo-boos, snits, spats, clean-ups, bribes, heart-warming smiles and loving hugs.
When the parents returned on Monday afternoon, I noticed some remarkable changes. First, I learned some people are born mothers and others have motherhood thrust upon them. Even though it almost [?] cost me my sanity, I became a mom (or dad), pro tempore. Even the grandchildren slipped up and called me “Mommy” or “Daddy” a couple of times. We shall disregard the other names.
Second, I am certain I shall need a vacation in the immediate future. I am thinking of snowy Utah, or perhaps Banff, Canada. In six weeks, I could be as good as new. Almost. Mothers are certainly made of stern stuff.
Eva, how can I ever repay you?
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