We often meet our kids and grandkids for a bite somewhere, and last Tuesday we met them at Ground Round. The kids meal there comes with a little bag of gummy fruits, which are the dessert, and which the grandkids can’t have until they have eaten enough of their dinner.
My sister asked Andie, the youngest, if she could have one of the gummies. But Andie refused to share. “Oh, I’m heartbroken,” my sister said, playing the part of the aggrieved.
Now Andie is three, and so has not had too much experience with one-upping other people, except her sister if Peyton has her guard down. But Andie is a fast talker, and came right back at my sister.
“I’M heartbroken!” she said with feeling. And before we could ask why, she told us.
“My Daddy broke my heart! My Mommy broke my heart. They won’t let me eat sugar cereal!” It was enough to make you cry. But I’m afraid we laughed instead.
Andie just started “school” this past week, too. We asked her if she likes school. She seemed reluctant to answer, so we asked what she liked best about school. That was an easy one: dinner. She told us all about the sandwiches that Daddy had packed for her, and all about her lunch box. No sugar cereal in the mix.
We asked what her teacher’s name is. No clue. So Morgan prompted her “Mrs…” Andie took a flyer, “Mrs. Teacher?” Oh well, she was only there two days, during which time she played with friends she already knows, Ella and James, and seemed to have a good time.
When grandson Harry lost two pets — old dog and old cat — this past winter, he asked where they were. Not wanting to just say, “they were burned up and buried,” Cassidy tried valiantly to explain, but then thought better of it. Why not join a church, so the pastor could explain all these things?
They found a church where they feel comfortable, and go to the early service, since Harry is up early anyway. The bonus is that it is what Cassidy calls the “hippie” service, complete with guitars, drums and stuff. After attending one of the services, they came home to start cooking lunch. Harry, who loves to pretend to cook, usually goes to his play kitchen and pretends to whip up something great.
But this particular Sunday, they had heard a drum soloist who also sang. Harry pulled over the tin covered bucket in the kitchen, began drumming on it, and singing the words that the drummer sang, “We are dancing in the light of GAWD! We are dancing in the light of GAWD!” at the top of his lungs.
Every teacher should learn how to sing and play the drums, if two-year-olds can pick up the lesson so easily. In fact, I still remember our fifth grade teacher singing “We’re the verbals known as gerunds, we all end in ‘ing’” to the tune of “Yankee Doodle Boy.”
Of course we still don’t know why Andie can’t have sugar cereal, or what happened to Harry’s deceased pets. My kids could use the phrase my parents and the Catholic nuns who taught us used. “It’s a mystery.” End of story, go play.