Storm before calm

I had no sooner locked the door as their parents went out for the evening when I heard this wild clack-clack-clack and raucous laughter. There was Frog (age 3) pulling some sort of crazy wood toy - wait, is that a toy centipede? - running full speed from the living room down the hall towards the bedrooms. Every unexpected, big, surprise motion makes little sister Bird (age 1) laugh merrily, and with abandon. Which, of course, means the antecedent action must be repeated by big sister. This time, the action was wild, reckless running. Over and over. Yes, we were off! This would not be a lazy evening of reading books on the couch before bed, but something else indeed...

Frog raced the clacking centipede down the hall, with newly-walking Bird - who, seemingly overnight, has gone from crawling to running - chasing after her. Quickly, quickly, quickly raced big sister. After, after, after came little sister. Both children running, scooting, laughing, all the way from the living room past the dining room table down the hallway to the bedrooms, where all the doors were closed. A full immediate crashing stop ensued, followed by a bustling wrestling nestling heap and more raucous laughter. This might not end well, I thought, and immediately shifted into one of those strange experiences of time where I am in many places at once - totally present and right there in the room yet simultaneously lost in thought, past present future, future present past -

oh my, future - 

These two girls are actually playing together. This is the first time I have seen this, I think. I just know they are going to be great friends, yes, always and forever.

oh my, present - 

I am going to be right here next to them, keeping a close eye, even if I have to run alongside the two of them for every single step. I must help these bodies to stay safe, ensure that they give each other space. These are exactly the kind of silly antics that end with surprise hurt and I don't want that on my watch.

oh my, past - 

Remember my own boys? Those evening frolics? Why is it that roughhousing dovetails with bedtime? All the more so during the winter, I think, when we don't get as much time outdoors, using our full body. We always called this the last storm before the calm...remember how quickly the emotions can switch from laughter to tears?

oh my, past past - 

Remember when my younger brother cut his head on the cabinet at the end of the hall? He and I were running just like this! We were both so young...

This game of chase was not an activity I would have chosen for these two youngsters to play, but to 'squash' the idea would still leave me with lots of unused, unreleased, uncertain, whirling, swirling energy. How to get their minds on something else, quickly? I made the game-time decision to go along with the fun while doing my utmost to set safe parameters. In the end, no one got hurt - which felt amazing! How many times did my granddaughters and I run down the hallway, back and forth, with that silly wood centipede and Frog leading the charge? I don't know! There were so many funny squeals. Both girls showed good balance and control, recovering from stumbles without falling onto the floor. No one got squeezed in an unexpected 'pile on' of bodies, arms, legs. I got silly with them, running alongside with loud percussive 'bum bum bum' footsteps, making them both laugh. 

I knew the game was winding down when Bird switched into a crawling position and hustled down the hallway in her old preferred way. Everyone was tired. All this exuberant exercise led to an easy bedtime routine...and, hopefully, sweet dreams by all.

I sure hope this chase game isn't something that becomes a regular thing, especially when I am the babysitter. I will admit though - we all had good fun together.

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

Time for bed

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Here she is,
after a long day,
enjoying a bedtime bottle,
laying on Nana's chest,
head against Poppa's shoulder,
nestled between and among,
loving together.
Both hands and feet
in constant motion,
lightly,
softly,
kneading,
twisting.
One hand holds Poppa's finger,
the other Nana's thumb,
tapping,
tapping,
tapping.
Legs kick up, too,
feet reach for Poppa's arm,
toes close around his hand,
curling and hugging,
as if to say -
Are you there, still?
or is it -
Let's play!
or maybe,
Hey you,
you belong to me,
I belong to you.
Holding,
feeling,
pressing,
loving.
All the while,
she
drinks,
drinks,
drinks the bottle,
her teeth
squish,
mash,
chew the nipple,
dawdle,
dawdle,
dawdle,
looking at Poppa,
clearing her throat,
searching for his eyes,
endless, caring movements,
enveloping
the slow bottle.
Precious moments,
at the end of a full day.


We have all the time in the world.

The game of food

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

It's been awhile since I've shared about my grandchild, 'Frog'. 

These days, Frog is a foodie. 

At eleven months old, she has six teeth and can basically eat any food, if it is prepared in small and soft enough pieces. 

I love to watch Frog eat, and feeding her is a bit of a game. 

Though I think I am, she's in charge. 

She loves 'finger foods,' always happy to feed herself morsels from the tray of her highchair, picking food up with a delicate pinch of her fingers. She will also eat from the spoon I dangle in front of her mouth with some savory bite... and, ever so quickly, she loves to grab that spoon right from me, flailing it this way and that, trying to get it into her mouth by herself - and leaving me to pinch the food on the tray for her. I am always surprised by how she catches me off-guard, and I am left thinking - wait, how did that happen?!

She eats with gusto, big smiles, and sounds - "mmm hmm hmm!," she says.
Frog has big, squishy, lovable cheeks and she will often let a few stray pieces of food sit right in those cheeks, to savor a little later, after the meal. She loves to sit at the table with us, and she loves to try new foods - which means, she wants to eat what you are eating. She watched with big wide eyes as her Poppa ate corn on the cob - riveted by every munch and chew. She even banged her spoon in accompaniment. How she would have loved to have eaten that cob, herself!

We no longer eat while she drinks her bottle. We've learned - if we dare to eat while she is drinking her bottle, she will throw the bottle down with gusto and pound her high chair tray, indignantly.

She just wants in on this game of food, and wants in NOW.

SOL 19 Slice #13 Carefully

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Four months old...
I look at her, she looks at me,
I coo at her, she coos at me,
I smile at her, she smiles at me,
back and forth, we play and play and play.
I know she needs a nap,
as her hands rub her eyes.
What was it the doctor said,
to aim for three naps a day?
How I'd love just a little more play.
Let me try a bottle,
let me hold her in my arms,
ahhh, just the trick, just the thing,
she falls asleep in my arms,
deep asleep,
before the final sips.
Carefully,
oh so carefully,
I slip the paci in her mouth,
and, carefully,
oh so carefully,
move her to the bedroom,
where her easy-on sleep suit awaits,
there in the bassinet.
Carefully,
oh so carefully,
I lay her down,
slip those tiny feet into the leg openings,
those tiny hands and arms into theirs,
and carefully,
oh so carefully,
I give a pull, to close the cozy suit.
Carefully,
oh so carefully.
I have been still, and slow, and soft.
I give one tiny pat of love on her tummy,
only to see
a smile, full smile,
breaking out around the pacifier,
eyes wide and looking,
at me,
searching.
"Don't meet the eyes," my son, her father, warned.
Those eyes,
now locked on me,
as if to say:
Who are you kidding, Nana?
You don't want me in here, with you out there!
I slip out, quickly,
carefully,
only to hear her fret,
then a stronger cry.
She knows,
and I know,
I'll be back in to get her.
Isn't there a better time to practice napping?
Isn't there a better enforcer than Nana?