Being as how it’s my birthday and I already celebrated in grand style by scrubbing the bathrooms and taking the recycling to the center,* I thought I’d forgo typing my fingers to nubs and instead present for your approval a recent post of my daughter, Rose’s.
Rose is my eldest; married to Tim and mother to my one grandchild, whose descriptions, by the way, run the gamut from cutest to most brilliant and all the superlatives in between. Here’s a recent picture of the little nipper.
(meet mr. dimples)
He’s only 4.5 months old, and he’s already speaking Mandarin Chinese, scooting around the room, studying
Ancient African cultures, sitting up for entire moments at a time, stealing everyone’s heart clean away, and reading Hebrew.
Okay, so he’s doing 3 out of the 6 items mentioned. I’ll let you figure out which three.
Rose’s blog is private and locked away from the general poopulace populace, but I secured her permission in copying here a piece of her most recent post because I thought it was an example of excellent writing with well-fleshed out descriptions and character development.
Also, it made me sniffly.
I hope you enjoy it too.
On our way home [from a walk] we were waylaid by a person small in stature but huge in terms of personality, joviality, general friendliness, and boundless energy. A little girl who stood no higher than Tim’s hip stood excitedly in the sidewalk as we approached and called out when we were still a good half-block away: “Hello! Is that a baby? Ohh it’s a baby! Can I see the baby? I want to see the baby!”
I squatted down and let her wake Mr. Dimples from his slumber. “Ohhh it’s a cute baby!!” she cried delightedly as she busily patted him and brushed stray hairs out of my face. Her mother apologized profusely for her enthusiasm, while she and her husband watched from the safe distance of their front porch steps. The girl’s younger sister came to have a look as well, and together they made an adorable pair; chattering eagerly about their tiny smidge of a puppy and all the little things in life that children so new to it find so captivating. The mama dog’s name was Tater (and she looked like a tater, too), and the puppy (no bigger than a guinea pig and just as squeaky) was called Annie Oakley due to the dark patches of fur on her back legs that bore an uncanny resemblance to assless chaps.
Shortly after our meeting, the little girl grabbed hold of my hand, shook it up and down vigorously and declared, “Here’s your present!” I thanked her, laughing, and she moved on to Tim, who was trying to say something to her parents and not paying quite as much attention to her as he had been previously. Not to be deterred, she hopped up and down insistently in front of him; “It’s your present! It’s your present! Hey! Hey! Here’s your present!” her small voice piped as she grabbed hold of his shirt and shook it to get his attention.
“Oh! Um, thank you!” came the desired response, as her parents explained, ever apologetic, that she likes to give pretend gifts to everyone. They “don’t know where she got it”, but they seemed somewhat mortified by her unusual habit.
It’s a rare thing to come across a person who radiates sunshine so very bold and bright. It fairly burst out of her as if she was the sun itself. I, for one, was every bit as delighted with my invisible present as I would have been with mounds and mounds of real ones. Tim remarked as we were leaving, “I wonder what it is that she’s giving people…maybe it’s joy.”
The only thing that I found sad about the encounter was the comment from her mother as we were departing. I told her how adorable her offspring were, and she responded without hesitation: “You can have her! Both of them! Do you want them?”
I have to admit I was somewhat taken aback. How can she think that it’s okay to joke like that? And within hearing of the same dear little girls that she’s freely offering to a complete stranger? No. Never.
But if the offer stands…
Hell yes, I’ll take them. In a heartbeat.
*don’t worry, I’m getting a real day out tomorrow. yippee!