Friday, January 8, 2016
My old friend, Maureen, and we go back like thirty years, told me this story about her kid. She and a friend or relative were carrying in a mattress into the house. She was hugely pregnant, so there was this belly in the way, and a mattress, and it wasn't fitting easily around the corner coming into the house.
She described the scene, the sweaty awkwardness of it, how the mattress was fighting back and then she said her sweet little daughter appeared near her elbow, "Mom? Can you tie my shoes?"
Of course, and when I'm on fire, how about you ask me for a glass of water?
I thought about this today when some girls came flying through the living room and told me a candle votive glass had somehow gone flying off a table and broken. They didn't know how.
(It's some dollar store trinket, no big deal.)
I told them they could get the shop vac and clean it up while I continued amusing the baby sister, or they could amuse the sister and I could clean it up.
They opted to entertain the baby and me deal with the glass.
Well, the shop vac wasn't picking up that well, seemed full. I took it outside to the trash can to empty it. I tucked the motor between my knees and tried to shake out the filter into the trash can and shake out the hose. It had started snowing and if any of this got wet, then all the nasty dust in the world would start to clump up, so I was hurrying.
The screen door smacked me in the butt, and there she was, "Grandma? Where are the granola bars? Can you find me a granola bar?"
Me in the snow, two hands full, another part held between my knees, yeah, sure. I can find you things.
Maureen, I thought of you and threw back my head, laughing, and was not rude to the child. I said. "I'm in the middle of this. Give me a minute and I'll help you."
The child disappeared and the door whammed shut. I shook out the filter and put it all back together before it could get wet and headed back in.
Here's the thing. Kids don't change.
We don't change.
Life is good.
Happy January, cold and bright. love always, Val