Two hazards on the dog walk
this morning: baby chipmunks and poison ivy.
Turnip walked the whole path in creepy crawly stalk mode, his focus
intent enough to ignore the long stem of grass cradled between his eyes in the
deep furrow of his forehead. Hilarious, a
low slung hound dog creep walking with a grass seed-head dangling above his
eyes, prickling his lashes! I don’t think he even blinked. Eyes on the prize every moment - a good way to live.
I often dream of unclipping and unleashing, letting the dogs be dogs. Reality trumps dreaming though. Only in my dreams are my dogs voice controlled and road smart.
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| Enjoying a raw bean. Burren is waiting for a handout |
The small boy came home yesterday after spending some time with his other grandparents and their farm. He has a tan and an increased vocabulary. He shocked me by pronouncing Turnip’s name almost perfectly! I'll miss the Turdyip and Terp stage. How does a kid change so much in 10 days? Another reminder to notice, even savor, what is happening right now; blink and it will change.
Jude and Turnip went with me
to pick “back roozbeeries.” Interesting combination
of blueberry and raspberry! He proudly
held the berry box in one hand and with the other carefully pulled a black raspberry off the prickly stems.
“Be careful Ternip, day will pick at you,” he cautioned his sidekick. Then he decided to hold the box with two
hands and let me pick. As I placed each berry in the box, he picked it out and
either ate it or fed it to Turnip. After I finished picking he held up his empty box. “Me em Ternip ate dem all!” With such a jubilant face how could I scold? Earlier, he shared raw sugar peas with Turnip. The dog is so glad to have his boy, his human Pez dispenser, back home.
This morning, Jude watched the men
bale straw, and unload the wagons. He rode in one empty wagon with Daddy as Papaw drove the tractor. He kept yelling, “Hey, Papaw, hey.” Or maybe he meant “Hay, Papaw, hay!” Just when he learns to associate real hay bales with drawings of hay in his farm picture books, we bale straw. That’s
okay, most illustrator’s get them mixed up too.
While Jude was away, we folded up his Pack and Play bed and put a Cars themed toddler bed in its place. We changed his whole room around, added other furniture too. I was curious how he'd respond. First time in the new room, he did not squeal in delight or jump on the bed. He just stood in the middle
of the room, scanned everything, then turned to me with eyes round and sad, “Where
did my douggadouggas go?” His pacifiers were always tucked in the net bag hanging on the Pack and Play. Only after I showed him the
little basket on the bed holding his treasures did he even notice the bed. He promptly took one
dougga out, popped it in his mouth, and curled up on the bed. I had to promise
he could nap here after lunch to convince him to leave the bed.
This small boy can adjust to berries
of blue, red or black, to bales of hay or straw, to staying with grandparents on
either farm, to various beds, but he is not yet ready to
face life without his precious dougga!
No worries, at least not with this Nana. Few kids enter kindergarten with a dougga! For all those adults who judge a small boy too harshly, I say give up your morning coffee, or one of your other comforting addictions and then we'll talk. :)
When Jude comes of age, Turnip will help him throw away his douggadouggas. Turnip will have had lots of practice by then, as daily he has to throw away rabbits and chipmunks.
Enjoy the following sweet, compassionate photo story:
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| I was photographing the buds on my fushia and heard Jude talking; I kept clicking. Notice the ice pop in left hand.Notice the angel figurine in the background. |
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| He's talking to the angel, patting her. |
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| He walks away, then turns back and.... |
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| ...offers her a lick of his ice pop! (too bad the fushia is in the way!!) |
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