Skip to main content

A Name by Any Other Name Still Means One of Us

The neighbor down the street has three grandkids visiting her this week. We have a pool. And Game Cube. And five kids of our own. We are seeing a lot of the grandkids.

Grandkid One and Two have "Yes, ma'am" down to a tee, excellent manners and immediate obedience. Grandkid Three? Not real strong in the obedience department...or the manners...or the honesty department. I have learned something about dealing with kids who spend a good amount of time at my house. I make them toe the line from day one. This kid is learning that he can't pull the wool over my eyes and I won't cut him any slack. He does not know who he's messing with, buddy!

He also doesn't know my name or any of the kids' names or Stuart's. He came to the door at 8:30 yesterday morning. "I want to play Game Cube with that big kid. What have you got to drink?"

"The big kid's name is John and he's still asleep. If you are thirsty you can get a glass out of the cupboard and get some water."

"Don't you have tea or soda or anything?"

"I have water."

"What are you drinking?"

"This is coffee. You cannot have coffee. You can have water. Then it's probably time for you to go home. None of the kids are up yet. We'll come get you this afternoon when we go swimming."

He left. I wished for a stiffer drink than coffee.

The Grandkids Three joined us later that day for a few hours in the pool.

"Miss Squirrel!....Miss Squirrel!....Miss Squirrel!"

It dawned on me that Grandkid Three was speaking to me. There was, after all, a Miss prefacing Squirrel.

"My name is Miss Kate. What do you need, Grandkid Three?"

"Watch this!" Two sommersaults in a row without coming up for a breath.

Grandkid One and Claire were hanging out beneath the slide. Grandkid One asked Claire, "What's your name again?"

"Claire."

"That's a long name. I can't remember long names."

"My mama calls me Claire or Rosie. Can you remember Rosie?"

"I might be able to remember that."

Grandkid Three bellowed from the far end of the pool, "Mom! Mom! Your little kid needs you!"

"I'm Miss Kate, Grandkid Three and that's Charlie."

After a few hours of this, the Grandkids Three dried off and headed for home. We reminded Grandkid Three to get the orange golf ball that he left the first time he came over, the bottle of bubbles from his second visit, and his shirt. He did not remember. We added his towel to the collection.

In a few hours, after The Little Kid and The Kid With the Long Name and The Big Boy and the other two go to bed, maybe Mr. Squirrel and I will go out for a swim. Alone.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This Week

This week, I let a kindergarten kid play with my iPhone to coax him into the tutoring classroom.  I set up a plan for dealing with this ongoing issue and consulted with his mama.  She’s a tough one to get to know, his mama, but I try. This week, I promised two little boys I would pick them up on Friday and take them to my house. This week, on a crazy afternoon, a granny asked me for alcohol and I thought.  I wish!    I could use a swig .  But that's not what she meant.  She was looking for rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide to take care of an injured kid.  A few months ago, we were awkward because we didn't know each other but now the awkwardness is gone and I can’t help but hug her every time I see her. I love that granny.  This week, I dropped off a little girl and shook hands with her father.  His hand was dry, he had a tattoo on his neck and he's just fresh from jail.  He asked how his daughte...

Artistic Expression and Faith

A few days ago, I came across a post called Of Books and Faith written by Beck at Frog and Toad are Still Friends ( The best blog name EVER to my mind.) She writes about how the Christian market is saturated with mediocre books. How few fiction authors there are who really grapple with the messiness of humanity from a Christian perspective. I agree with her whole-heartedly. The Christian life does not come with the lack of conflict and the happily-ever-after resolutions that I find in many books of this genre. It's funny that I came across that post because I had been thinking similar thoughts about another form of Christian expression. Art. Christian art is often either poorly rendered or is just too pretty. It lacks creativity. It doesn't engage the mind. Remember when I made that long trek to Hobby Lobby for stencil supplies? That was where this idea started to form. I spent a few minutes flipping through posters. Flip. Glowing Jesus in a meadow. Flip. Glowing Jesus surr...

Potholes

We were driving home on the back roads between The Land Flowing With Milk and Honey (where the Wal-Mart is) and Smallville . The Suburban dipped and swayed through the tight curves and potholes. Lots of potholes. Asphalt sprayed the car’s undercarriage. “Tink. Tink. Tink.” The children were oblivious to the dipping and swaying but the noise caught their attention. They looked out the windows. “Hey Mama, didn’t they just fill those potholes two weeks ago? Why did they have to fill them again?” Good question, kids. Instead of hiring the Fix It and Forget It Construction Company , our county employs Larry, Darryl and Darryl to maintain our roads. Larry drives the pickup. Darryl shovels a bit of asphalt off the back and the other Darryl tamps it down into the hole. Week after week they fill the same holes. Week after week our wheels grind away their efforts. Potholes. We all have them. Places in our lives that just can’t seem to stay filled up. Holes that consume great quantities of love ...