Luckily, Mr. Moon did.
And I felt so stupid! He'd been the one to work outside all day on Saturday in the crazy heat in the woods and all I'd done was keep up with Owen but somehow, for whatever reason, whether it was sheer exhaustion or an illness, I just didn't have any energy at all. And that headache- ach! It was just a nasty, grinding thing that would not cease and desist, no matter what I took.
But I woke up this morning feeling so much better and then went back to bed with Owen and then we got up and had the most terrific day. We did all our games. We fed our animals. We fed ourselves. We laughed and we carried on. Here we are, playing peek-a-boo- our oldest and most favorite game. Today was the first day we ever played it with him in the closet though. I would NEVER, EVER shut a door on a kid in a closet but he wanted to and so he did. He thought it was brilliant!
After awhile, to change things up, I went and got the ratty puppet and when Owen opened the door, Ratty said, "Peek-A-Boo!" and kissed and hugged him and then I showed Owen how to make the puppet work and there you go- Grandma Daycare IS educational!
Right.
He even took a good nap. Which means that I got more sleep. I am drinking it up like it's the elixir of life, which in my opinion is exactly what sleep is.
He is just cracking me up these days. When his mama and his daddy got here he wanted something and I can't even remember what and his mama said, "No," and he poked his bottom lip out and put his hands over his eyes and said, "Sad!" in the most dramatic tone I've ever heard. It's just impossible not to laugh.
It's such a joy watching him grow and learn. He wants to go out to the back yard and then he tells me to go inside. He wants to explore on his own. And I let him as long as I can see him from the porch. So far he's only gone a few feet away, but it makes him feel like a big boy. He threw Miss Martha some kisses today when we left the post office, completely unbidden. I swear to you, that child is just so damn SWEET! He pretends to read out loud. He loves to draw pictures. He stalks around in my red cowgirl boots. He helps me carry the laundry. He says, "Nice," when I fix him his lunch.
He does NOT want to use the potty at my house but he also does not want me to see him poop. He tells me to go away. He does throw a fit when I check his diaper. "Clean!" he insists, which is generally a blatant lie. He finds the dog poop on the rug for me and points it out. "Dogs," he says sorrowfully.
I agree.
He knows some of the chickens by name now. Mostly Miss Bob and Mable. He says that his horse's name is "Bob" as well. I asked him today whether he was saying "Bop," like "Grandfather" or "Bob," like the chicken. "Chicken," he said. He has named his stuffed puppy at home "Bones" and his whale is named "Water."
Yes. Yes. Yes. I am a completely smitten grandmother. I know it. I can't help it. You just wait. If you ever get grandchildren you are going to be the same exact way. You won't know what hit you. You'll realize you are a fool. You'll do anything for a kiss or a hug from them. You'll never say "no" unless what the child wants is potentially life-threatening. (Eating dogfood is not potentially life-threatening.) When the child tells you to sit, you will sit. When the child asks you to pick him up, you will pick him up. When the child asks for the moon, you will reach out, pluck it from the sky, and hand it to him on a silver platter.
This is what it is like to be a grandmother.
And that is the sort of day I have had today, despite my fears last night as I set my alarm to go off at five-thirty. And it has rained a good, steady, cooling rain and the earth is soaking it up and the boy has gone home with his mama and his papa and his grandfather will be coming home soon.
An evening at home, the two of us alone, I am feeling better, almost normal, and I just want to say that I am aware that I probably talk about my grandson too much but if this blog is for anything, it is for me to remember. And here are my future memories with pictures and little movies so that one day I can come back (I hope!) and find them all still here, Owen in the closet playing peek-a-boo, calling Buster, and I will remember a day that he played with me here in Lloyd and put the colander on his head and held the wire whisk up to his mouth and pretended it was an elephant trunk and walked through the house, laughing at his own joke and it rained and we napped and fed cornbread and grapes to the chickens and we watered the front porch plants and saw a frog and we read A Kiss For Little Bear and the truck book and The Best Nest and Are You My Mother? and I taught him how a hand puppet works and drew a picture for him of his Bop and we laughed and we laughed and we laughed.
