[The Devil’s Gift is still on vacation. Here’s a post from October 20, 2019.]
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My four-year-old grandson Wyatt turns five next week. I’m pretty sure that means no more blogging about him unless I get an attorney.
One hot day last month I picked him up in Boonsboro for his day at our house. After he’s buckled snugly in his car seat in the back, he requests “boy rock.” I know his preferences, so I oblige with a carefully selected playlist that blasts us all the way to Shepherdstown.
Our weekly routine includes a carwash in the automatic bay at Whale of a Wash and then a quick stop in Food Lion for bananas, blueberries, and maybe a candy bar. After that, it’s off to home but not through the shorter campus route because I DON’T LIKE THAT WAY. I once explained the advantages. It didn’t change his opinion.
At the car wash, I insert my credit card and make a selection. The door slowly rises. We enter and roll to a stop. The door closes behind us and suddenly we’re met with a putrid smell.
Cowshit, says the passenger in the backseat.
I can’t disagree. His other grandparents live on a farm near Rohrersville. He’s become an expert on cowshit.
After the wash, we pull around to Food Lion.
I don’t want to go in there today.
That’s OK, I say. I’ll park by the door and dash in and out real quick. We only need some bananas. You can wait in the car.
But aren’t you forgetting something, Grandy?
I don’t think so. All we need are bananas. What am I forgetting?
As I said: This is my last blog about that guy.
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PS–“Kids say the darndest things.” In the comment window below you’re welcome to share a “darndest” utterance you’ve heard from a kid. Return later in the day or tomorrow to see what others have posted.
When grandson Ethan was about to turn four, I asked him where he was thinking about going to college. Costco, he said. Why there, I asked. He shrugged like everyone should know–they have good pizzas and cashews. He’s 18 now and off to UMD College Park in a few weeks. Of course, we reminded him, Costco’s still an option for grad school.
When my son was 3 years old we lived near Rib Mountain, the only “mountain” in Wisconsin. On occasion we would drive up there & watch the view of the town below, and watch the sunset. One day, as the sun began to descend below the horizon, as we watched in silence, he made a huge sigh, and pronounced in a serene voice “the sun is setting “.
My heart grew three sizes as I smiled & said “yes, the sun is setting “…
(my little buddha)
Young justice: My grown daughter was 7. A Sunday night in bed: “What does ‘No Tresspassing’ mean, Mommy? Peepaw and I saw the sign near the park we visited today.” Me: “It means ‘Don’t walk here. It’s private property — owned by an individual’.” Daughter: “WHAT? You can’t “own” the land! Can you own the stars, the sky, the sun? No! Send that person to President (H.W.) Bush!” Me, mistakenly: “I am sorry to tell you this, but Pres. Bush owns more land than most people in this country.” Daughter: “Then we should send HIM over to Saddam Hussein!”
When he was about 6 or so our son loved standing on a stool in Grandma’s kitchen making potions (it was all about Harry Potter in those days) and he stated that he and his best friend Jay were “going to go around the country in a camper making and selling potions” when they got bigger.
When my son, now 50+ years old, was five he could not sit still in church. One Sunday I whispered to him, “just brace yourself for five more minutes and it will be over.” He assumed a rigid posture on the pew and looked up at me said… “like this Dad?” “Yes, like that.” “I can’t do it.”
⁷I’m color blind in certain areas. My grandson Griff was building a lego creation and asked me for a brown lego. I gave him a grey one. He said that’s not brown it’s grey. He picked up a brown one and said this is brown. I said oh.
Later that night at prayer time he told his mom PapPap needs help with his colors. He thought I was still not sure of the names.
Our beloved son Kevin was born in the small hospital at Grand Canyon National Park. Until he was old enough to know better he told everyone he was born under a rock at Grand Canyon.
I’m glad your grandson has put you on notice. Now you have both the fear of the Lord and the fear of the Law. What a lucky man! I’ve enjoyed reading everyone’s stories. I have none of my own, but would like to share the lyrics to “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” as heard through a child’s ears and which inspired a child’s drawing, which I can’t share here.
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,
He is trampling on the village where the Great Giraffe is stored……..”
Driving home from work on Friday evenings, I would often stop into Blockbuster for a video to watch with our daughter, Anna, when she was young. I had her with me in the car and she’d be able to choose the movie she wanted to see. She was about 5 years old when one time we were in the store, she got excited and said, loudly, “ Mommy, I want to watch the focking hound, the focking hound!” People turned to look at us & I said, “Oh, you want to watch The Fox & Hound.” Everyone chuckled.
I used to play with daughter Sydney’s toes as a baby and toddler and call the toesy–woesies. One afternoon when she was 3 or 4, she said, “They are not toesy–woesies. They’re toes. I’m a big girl now.”