Lately, I’ve been wondering
why I love children so much. Is it their innocence, their pure wisdom, their
spontaneity, their ability to experience something over and over again like it
was the very first time?
That last one might be the
cincher. (I looked up the word cincher, just to make sure it is indeed a word.
It isn’t. Unless you are talking about women’s girdles and waist nippers. That
might be another reason why I like children - no need to know about such icky stuff!) Let me restate….children’s ability to
experience familiar things new each day might be a top reason for my
fascination with them. Maybe why I like dogs so much too- pull out the same old
leash and they think they’re going to Australia!
Our grandson Jude, comes out
to the empty pasture with us when we take the dogs out for exercise. He has a
plastic bat and ball there. The bat was broken ages ago from a zealous game
with Pap and Uncle J. We don’t replace the bat because we get such a kick out
of watching Jude pick up the bat, focus intently on the busted part and
exclaim, “Oh no!” His expression is always surprised and
genuinely distressed. And then he reassures himself with the pronouncement “Pap did it!” A pause to honor both broken bat and Pap, he
then either drops the bat or plays with it as is. Like all mishaps are survivable
if a loved one is remembered. Wow, that could
be a spiritual practice.
Wouldn’t it be lovely though,
waking up every morning actually feeling like it’s a brand new miracle, this
reuniting with Mommy and Daddy and Life, (and leash if you’re a dog). Waking up
to genuine freshness and not just the ingrained, knowledge and positive
coaching tip ‘this is the first day of the rest of your life.” To eat a pancake for breakfast. And. Marvel.
With. Every. Single. Bite. Some seasons
this does become an intentional spiritual practice for me- stop and literally
smell the pancakes rather than wolf them down so I can eat my fair share or
move on to more important events.
My favorite show as a
youngster was Art Linkletter’s “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” In the same spirit, I give you some funny stories from my own grandkids.
GIANTS and TIGERS and DRAGONS, oh my!
Jude, Papaw, Nana and the
dogs were playing in the hay pasture. Burren and Turnip were not playing, they
work hard hunting mice and rabbits in the tall grasses. Papaw mowed paths in
the tall grass for Jude to run and so we could occasionally see the dogs when
they come out of the grass. So, the pasture is a 3-fold arrangement: We can grow hay, the grandkid can play and the dogs can hunt.
Jude's favorite pasture game
is hiding in the grass while a giant, a tiger, a dinosaur and a dragon stalk
him. Nana plays the giant most often, creeping up on the giggling or screeching
half-frightened boy, while chanting:
"Feeeee Fiiiiii Fooooo FUM, I smell the hair of a little boy
chum!!"
Finding the boy involves
exaggerated tickling or picking up the squirming body and slinging it around, depending
on Nana energy levels.
Then it's Jude's turn. He is
always a dragon or a dinosaur, the scariest monsters in his toddler repertoire.
I overheard this as he stalked Papaw:
"FE FI FO FUM I mell
the PAIR of a PawPaw
PUM!"
The phrase has become his go
to words. If he doesn’t know what to say and when he forgets ‘ready-set-go’ he
just says fe fi fo fum. I love this! When life is difficult, when I’m at a loss for
words, when I’m gearing up for something I could just chant: fe fi fo fum,
lookout world, here I come.
ADRENALINE RUSH
When Jude tires of monster
hiding games, he calls the dogs. Their crashing out of the tall grass is as
much an adrenaline rush as a monster finding him.
"TUR ERRRRP!" (Turnip)
"BURRRR DEN!" (Burren)
Jude stands calling, fist
clutching treats held high above his head. He waits, calls, whole body
trembling in scary anticipation. Suddenly, Turnip explodes out of the grass,
skids into a sit in front of Jude's tiny body. It's almost a strike, Turnip is bowling
ball to Jude’s pin-anticipating-knockdown. The treat is given amid squeals and
laughter. Then Burren's head is seen above the grasses as she hops her way
toward Jude for more squealing and treat giving.
LAUGHING COWS
All my grandchildren ask for laughing
cheese. They eat plain, unsweetened, crunchy sour dough rye crackers with
Laughing Cow cheese spread. They always see the tiny picture of the laughing
cow and allow themselves to be delighted! They eat my rye crackers like some
people eat potato chips, just because long ago I said they wouldn’t like them. Often
when they are cranky, they ask for laughing cheese. My spiritual director once
told me life always offers something to help us get through the difficulties.
Thank God for laughing cows.
GROSS
During sleepovers, Ave and
Rae always beg to watch me use my water pik. I am shy with my oral hygiene, so I
try to weasel out of doing it in front of them. Once, overly tired, I made up
some lame excuse, “I don’t have to do this every night.” (Apparently, Nana’s
not above fibbing). That particular night, Avery had been grossed out by
Railynn’s brushing and spitting out bits of rye cracker – can’t imagine how she’d
handle watching pieces of a steak dinner swirl down the drain. But, the begging
and pestering drowned my better judgment and I water picked my teeth for them.
Avery’s little face wrinkled with horrified fascination. Then, with utmost care
and concern she leaned in to whisper.
“Oh Nana, I really think you
should do this more often.”
BEAT BOREDOM
Jude entertains himself (and
us!) by singing in the car:
Trickel Trickel liddle dar,
How I whender wat you are.
Up above the Di Mond in da Guy,
Trickel Trickel liddle dar
How I whender wat you are.
SOFT AS ANGELS
Avery steps in my shoes with
her bare feet.
“Ahhh. Nana, you’re shoes are
soft as angel clouds.” Then stepping out, my cushioned insert sticks to her
foot. “What the heck is this?” A quick survey of my closet shows inserts in
every shoe and slipper. I explain my sore feet.
“I wish I had incushions in
all my shoes!”
She expressed the same amazed
delight and desire upon spying the bath brush for my back hanging from the
shower head. Buying birthday gifts for her this year might be easy and cheap. J
NOT MOVING
The girls are using wagons
and strollers and arms full to cart all the doll stuff into our front room.
“What are you doing?
Moving?”
“No Nana,” says the 4yr old.
“We’re going on a kay shun.”
“A kay shun?”
“Yes, a kay shun, where we go
every year in the summer.”
NAKED CHAIR
I made the mistake of
changing the 6yr old into her bathing suit outside. I told her it was okay to
change behind the privacy screen I made out of two deck chairs. Later, I caught
the 4 yr old stripped naked on the deck. She saw my expression.
“It’s okay, Nana. I’m behind
the naked chair.”
She was not behind the
privacy screen chairs. She stood beside one of the deck chairs facing the busy
road in full view of everyone driving by.
WORKING FRUSTRATION
We are all standing by the
pasture watching Papaw bale hay. It’s is fascinating for the grandchildren.
They love everything about Papaw- the way he disappears after meals, the big machines
he keeps for toys, and now, the bales popping out from behind some noisy
contraption. They wave and holler, dance and jiggle with excitement. When it’s
over, Papaw jumps off the tractor, rushes to say hello to the kids, then
hurries off to the next job. Avery comes to me, face dejected and shoulders
slumped.
“Papaw works and works all
day, then comes in a short time and goes out again to work all the time! I HATE
it!”
Precisely expressed, dear one.
Precisely expressed.
IMPRESSIVE INVENTION
The grandchildren watch as I
unlock the play yard fence gate from the opposite side. I put my hand through
the hole in the green rubber coated wire/split rail fence that Papaw cut for
me. Sticking my hand through the hole, hooking my fingers through the metal
loop I open the spring loaded latch. For some reason this concept fascinates
the kids. Avery wonders why there is a lock only on one side of the fence, who
cut out the hole and why the latch is so heavy. Later, as Jude and Railynn
played in the fenced yard while eating watermelon and Avery ate with the adults
on the patio, there were many requests to open the gate so the younger two could
hand us their melon rinds.
“Look, kids, this is a hand-door,”
an exasperated Avery exclaimed, pointing to the hole in the wire. “Use the hand
door!!” From then on, rinds, napkins and toys that fit were handed between deck
and play yard through the hand door. What fun!
I’m going to enjoy this stage
immensely, the stage in which “nana and papaw are geniuses.” All too soon the grandchildren will be
rolling their eyes while teaching us how to use some newfangled smart technology
or correct our dumb mistakes.
And, when they leave, instead
of being exasperated with myself, I hope to just chant with a squeal and a
laugh: Fe Fi Fo Fum, all mishaps are survivable
if a loved one is remembered!
Joyfully,
Sharon
