So yesterday I flew home for a couple of days after two weeks away. I was anxious to see the nineteen-month-old Mouse because in my experience absence does not make the heart grow fonder. Would he remember me? Would he still race to me and raise his little arms to be picked up?
I exited the car in the driveway. He stood on the front porch with his mom. He heard my voice and did a double take. Then he turned around, and bellied down the steps and sprinted into my arms. Whew! My day was off to a great start.
This is her excited look
The older two piled in the car for our annual trip to the fair. The Worm got excited at the mention of bacon donuts. There were pirate shows with zygodactyl parrots, loads of deep fried food choices, expensive minute carnival rides in hot tin kitty cars (just like long ago for their aunts and uncles), and lots of moments for cheesy bad photographs.
Long ago rides up front and today, the grandkids in the last car (because it goes faster)
The Bug was mesmerized at the Bubbly Beaker show in the science building. “Fire can only be present when there is a source, fuel, and oxygen,” he quoted. I wasn’t sure which of those three I was missing, because I sure didn’t have my old fire racing around after two very active grandchildren.
The Bug didn’t have quite the luck with the ping pong balls as he did as a beginner at the fair when he was a mere three-year-old. He’d won a Curious George stuffed animal all by himself. No winner in the floating blue bowl this year.
The Worm caught the eye of the buff blond lumberjack from Wisconsin. “Yo-Hoe,” he said. (I don’t think he was calling me. I hadn’t seen Natalia, the Macy’s makeover master, in a few days, so my makeup was less conspicuous.) He threw his arms in the air after carving a chair with a chain saw from a log during the lumberjack challenge spectacular. That may not be the best description, but I think anyone carving a chair with a chain saw (not to mention blond and buff) is pretty spectacular. He picked the young Worm from the crowd. “Is your mom here?” Tim Brrrrrrrr asked. (At least that’s what I think his name was.)
“No,” said the Worm.
“What about your dad?”
“No.”
He scratched his head (with the hand NOT holding the chain saw). “Who’s responsible for this little girl?” he questioned.
“My grandma,” said my little straight man, pointing to me. The crowd laughed.
“Well, she won’t mind if I give you this chair. Will she?”
The Worm’s eyes widened. “No,” she said excitedly.
“It’s not too heavy,” he said, struggling to lift the chair, “to carry around for the rest of the night.” Now who’s the comedian?
It was heavy. But I’d manage. I’m always a chump for my family. After four hours of lugging around the weighty chair, my hands filled with numerous splinters and my clothes covered in sawdust, I’m now the stump chump.
Epilogue: Last night I couldn’t justify $8.50 for a bacon donut (touting three slices of bacon), even for my delightful granddaughter. But I did promise her we’d try it out at home. So the next day we did. We purchased a maple bar, and patted crumbled bacon onto the frosting. Best way I’ve found to add protein to my diet in a long time.
Related posts:
- Play it again, grandma
- A winter’s day in California with grandkids
- Leave them alone
- Encores and firsts
- Naked and wet
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I can hear them now — “It’s OK Grandma, you can carry it.”
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Jen’s kids certainly look like they belong to your family! I loved the “bad” photos! Thx for sharing, Valerie