Saturday, August 19, 2006
Just imagine...
We've been suffering through the hottest week of the summer, which caused us to forego our usual weekend at the ranch. This morning, mom and dad agreed to last-minute babysitting duty, affording Lee and me one of our once-a-quarter-whether-we-need-it-or-not dates. The plan was for Max and Reed to head for Babee's house around 6:00 and for us to pick the kids up after a movie or dinner.
Max had other ideas.
Shortly after lunch, he began packing for Babee's house. Mid-afternoon, he emerged from his room, struggling under the weight of his backpack.
"I'm ready for my sleepover at Babee's house!"
"Uh, Max, that wasn't the plan. You're going to Babee's house for dinner, but we haven't talked to her about your sleeping over."
"I'll ask her when I get there. But I've packed my underwear and clothes and pajamas. Just In Case."
Max grinned like the cheshire cat. He's got a pretty good idea how irresistible his charms can be. Especially to Babee.
"Oh, no! I forgot something for my sleepover!"
Max bounded down the hall and reemerged clutching a pink and lavender Scooby-do sleeping bag that was, oh, maybe four and a half feet long.
"I need this sleeping bag for Poppy, so he can sleep in the same room as Babee and me!"
Picture, if you will, a small boy and his grandmother sleeping soundly on a spacious bed. The child is stretched diagonally across the mattress, one leg draped possessively across his beloved Babee. During the night, he rouses briefly, then rolls closer to his grandmother's side, sheets wrapped tightly around his body like a prince's robe. At the foot of the bed, on the cold terrazzo floor, the boy's grandfather lies curled in a fetal position on a thin, nylon sleeping bag. He does not sleep, nor dream. He waits for the moment when he might resume his rightful place between the fine cotton sheets and take his rest.
Max's imagined solution might have its comic limitations, but I choose to see something more. In the midst of Max's unabashed love affair with Babee, Poppy has entered his mind, and without being banished to the guest room or Siberia. Now that's progress.
Max had other ideas.
Shortly after lunch, he began packing for Babee's house. Mid-afternoon, he emerged from his room, struggling under the weight of his backpack.
"I'm ready for my sleepover at Babee's house!"
"Uh, Max, that wasn't the plan. You're going to Babee's house for dinner, but we haven't talked to her about your sleeping over."
"I'll ask her when I get there. But I've packed my underwear and clothes and pajamas. Just In Case."
Max grinned like the cheshire cat. He's got a pretty good idea how irresistible his charms can be. Especially to Babee.
"Oh, no! I forgot something for my sleepover!"
Max bounded down the hall and reemerged clutching a pink and lavender Scooby-do sleeping bag that was, oh, maybe four and a half feet long.
"I need this sleeping bag for Poppy, so he can sleep in the same room as Babee and me!"
Picture, if you will, a small boy and his grandmother sleeping soundly on a spacious bed. The child is stretched diagonally across the mattress, one leg draped possessively across his beloved Babee. During the night, he rouses briefly, then rolls closer to his grandmother's side, sheets wrapped tightly around his body like a prince's robe. At the foot of the bed, on the cold terrazzo floor, the boy's grandfather lies curled in a fetal position on a thin, nylon sleeping bag. He does not sleep, nor dream. He waits for the moment when he might resume his rightful place between the fine cotton sheets and take his rest.
Max's imagined solution might have its comic limitations, but I choose to see something more. In the midst of Max's unabashed love affair with Babee, Poppy has entered his mind, and without being banished to the guest room or Siberia. Now that's progress.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Boo's Prayer
Boo's love of food might be rivaled only by his love of farm animals. So it was fitting, then, that when we returned home from Seattle, having visited the hands-on barnyard at the marvelous Seattle Zoo, Boo offered up these words of thanksgiving:
"Dear God,
Thank you for the grass for the cows to eat.
Thank you for the hay for the horses to eat.
Thank you for the corn for the pigs to eat.
Thank you for the shirts for the goats to eat.
Thank you for the barns.
Amen."
"Dear God,
Thank you for the grass for the cows to eat.
Thank you for the hay for the horses to eat.
Thank you for the corn for the pigs to eat.
Thank you for the shirts for the goats to eat.
Thank you for the barns.
Amen."
