Susan Writes

A Clear Blue Sky October Day

Posted on October 30, 2014 by susanrray

When I drove past the Putnam County Courthouse yesterday, I paused to remember an event that took place there on October 28, 1938. The day my parents married. I don’t have a single picture of them on their wedding day. Just pictures in my mind.

Mom was young, only 19. Dad was 26. Seems quite a gap in ages. But I’m sure Mom was mature for her age; she was the oldest of three sisters and had been forced to take the responsibility of her family’s daily home life when her mother became ill. Dad had completed three years of college and taught in the Pickett County schools and worked with his grandfather on the family farm.

One summer Sunday afternoon after Mom graduated from high school, she and Dad were among the many young people who gathered for a weekly pick-up baseball game in a farm field. After the game, Dad offered Mom a ride home and that was the first time they were in a car together. Mom’s sister told me that after that Sunday afternoon, Dad was always around their house.

With both their parents’ blessings, Dad and Mom travelled alone from their homes in Byrdstown to Cookeville on that October day in 1938. Mom worn a plum colored, knee-length satin dress that she’d made. When they arrived at the courthouse, they had all the paperwork in order and a judge agreed to marry them. All they needed was a witness.

It was suggested that someone from a store could be a witness. While Mom waited in the judge’s office, Dad walked across the street to Terry Brother’s Department Store (now the Lighthouse.) As soon as he walked in the store a sales clerk asked if he needed someone to ‘stand up with him and his bride.’ So their only witness was a woman who had apparently witnessed many other weddings.

Mom and Dad took a weekend honeymoon trip to the Smokey Mountain National Park. As they drove through Lenoir City late that Friday afternoon, they heard music, a high school band playing. Dad took advantage of the situation and told his new bride, “Listen, the band is playing just for us.” That’s the only event of the honeymoon that Mom shared with her younger sisters.

I wish I’d known my parents on their wedding day and during their early years of marriage. By the time I came along, they’d been married for almost nine years and they had my brother, five years older than me. Dad had served time in the army during World War II. While he was away, Mom divided her time living with her parents and her mother-in-law.

The best glimpse I have of my parents as a young couple is a letter Dad wrote to Mom on March 20, 1946, from Karlsruhe, Germany, where he was stationed as a solider. The first lines are, “This is the letter I’ve dreamed of writing. I’m on my way home.” And the last lines read, “Darling, I do love you. Right now I’m just so darned happy.”

I can imagine that on a clear blue sky fall day in 1938 inside the Putnam County Courthouse, a beautiful bride and a handsome groom were both just so darned happy.

Filed under: Anniversary, Memory | Tagged: anniversary, Mom and Dad marry, wedding | 1 Comment »

Flying High

Posted on October 24, 2014 by susanrray

When is an envelope not stuffed with a letter? A bucket, not filled with water? When the envelope is six stories tall, looks like a gigantic beach ball, and is filled with air heated by a propane burner. When the bucket is a heavy wicker basket and large enough for at least one person to stand inside. To a hot-air balloon pilot – it’s an envelope and bucket. To me – a balloon and basket.

Sometimes I see a hot-air balloon float lazily across the sky. A beautiful, amazing sight. I wanted to see more than one or two fly at the same time and that meant going to a balloon festival. Not just any balloon festival; the one I first read about in a weekly news magazine in the mid 1980’s with my sixth-grade students. The Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta that is held in October every year. The world’s largest collection of hot-air balloons.

As Husband and I rode on a bus from our Albuquerque hotel to Fiesta Park, our group guide encouraged us to walk to the middle of the park – flat level ground the size of fifty-four football fields! Get as close to the balloons as possible, he’d said. And we did. At 6:15 a.m. before the sun rose in the New Mexico sky, we headed toward an area where a few balloons stood tall on the ground. We were three feet away from a wicker basket and propane flames shot high above our heads into an inflated rainbow colored balloon. I was sure it would would rise any second. It didn’t. Other balloons, stretched out flat on the grass all around us, began to inflate. Soon we were standing in a balloon forest.

Hot-air balloons launch when the temperature is cool and there is very little wind. Had we travelled across country only to see inflated balloons on the ground? Our guide had explained that although launches were planned for every morning of the nine-day fiesta, there’s only one way to know for sure if the balloons will go up. “When you see the bottom of the baskets, you know they’re flying.” A slight breeze on that 45° morning made me pull my jacket hood tighter over my head.

Then two men, wearing black and white striped jackets and called zebras, blew whistles, raised their arms, and shouted, “Move back. Give them space!” Along with others crowded around the rainbow balloon, Husband and I stepped backwards. But only a few steps. And very slowly the balloon lifted into the air. Applause and cheers broke out from those of us on the ground. The pilot and his passenger waved their caps as they flew over us.

A thousand words, not even a hundred thousand words, can describe the sight that morning. As the sun rose so did the hot-air balloons. Mostly round ones, but over 100 special shape balloons. Like a black and white cow that was so huge that the basket where four people stood was minute compared to the cow’s hoof. Like Mr. Potato Head and a motorcycle and Noah’s Ark, complete with animals – ten times larger that the real animals.

I said to Husband, “Let’s just take a minute to look around and up in the air and try to take it all in. There are over 550 balloons here.” As far as I could see toward the northern horizon, balloons filled the partly cloudy sky and all around us others lay on the ground or stood inflated, preparing to fly. It was all I imagined and more.

Filed under: Travel | Tagged: Albuquerque, Balloon Fiesta, Hot-air balloons, NM | 1 Comment »

It’s a Bittersweet Time

Posted on October 19, 2014 by susanrray

It’s a bittersweet time when children pack up their belongings and go away to college. Parents wave goodbye and wish they hadn’t done such a good job. They raise their children to be independent and take wings and when the kids happily leave the nests, parents cry. Tears of sadness. Tears of joy. Tears for no reason. Well, maybe only mothers cry, and not all mothers. I did.

When Husband and I took our firstborn to college, I was happy that she was going to the school that she chose. Sad that it was a four hours away. Happy that she felt confident. Sad that my little girl had grown up. As we drove home, I replayed every birthday she’d celebrated and cried that those years were gone. And then two years later, Son moved across town to go to Tennessee Tech.

I tell parents to give themselves two weeks to adjust and they’ll like the empty nest stage. It took that long for me to sleep through the night. No more 3:00 a.m. awakenings to check beds and be sure that all were home and safe and sound. When I wrapped a gift, the scissors and tape were right where I’d left them. And there were no gym bags or backpacks to stumble over in the hallway.

When my children lived at home, they did their own laundry. To me, that meant wash and dry and take the clothes to their rooms. To them, doing laundry meant put clothes in the washer and turn it on. Or dry clothes and leave them in the dryer. In my empty nest home when I opened the washer and dryer, they were empty. And the leftovers that I’d stored in the refrigerator to eat for supper were still there. The only dirty dishes in the sink were my cereal bowl and coffee cup. And there was enough milk for my cereal the next morning.

I admit that learning to parent from afar wasn’t an easy learning curve for me. For 18 years when our children walked out of the house, they told me where they were going and with whom. It took time for me to learn that no news was truly good news and to trust that I’d get a phone call when someone needed me or had something to tell me. I tried to follow my own mother’s advice: tell them you love them and don’t ask too many questions. There are some things we parents don’t want or need to know.

Finally, I discovered empty nest freedoms. Husband and I took spur-of-the-moment overnight trips. We ate only at the restaurants that that we liked. I went clothes shopping for myself. The whole house stayed cleaner and neater.

Just when I began to really like Husband’s and my new lifestyle, Daughter and Son came home for a weekend visit. Somehow, I didn’t mind finishing the laundry they started, and I cooked their favorite meals. I carefully maneuvered around their shoes and backpacks and duffle bags, knowing they wouldn’t be there for long.

And on Sunday afternoon as they left, I gave them all the food leftovers, plus the bags of groceries I’d bought just for them, kissed them good-bye, and swore that I had some allergy problems. Why else would my eyes by red and watering? Tears of sadness. Tears of joy.

Filed under: Children, Family | Tagged: bittersweet, Children leave home | Leave a comment »

It’s Pumpkin Time

Posted on October 19, 2014 by susanrray

“What happened to that pumpkin?” my young Grand asked. She pointed to what looked like a normal pumpkin to me so I asked what she meant. Why did she think something had happened? “It’s a funny color. Did it fade?” she asked.

No, it didn’t fade. It was a tannish-orange colored pumpkin like the ones that everyone cut to make jack-o-lanterns when I was a kid growing up in Pickett County. A plain pumpkin. The same kind of pumpkin that Mother cut up, scooped out the meat, and used to make a pumpkin pie. A field pumpkin.

Field pumpkin – an apt name. Dad grew them in a field, usually close to or in the cornfield. He and I would walk among the dry corn stalks, which scratched and scraped my arms, searching for a perfect jack-o-lantern pumpkin. It had to sit flat and not tip over. The skin had to be smooth with no ugly bumps, at least on one side. I liked a tall, skinny pumpkin. Then there was plenty of space for a face to be cut out. Triangles for his eyes and nose and a mouth with jagged teeth. And we’d dig out a place inside on the bottom to stand a tall, maybe a six-inch tall, candle. A real candle.

My Grand’s questions made me notice all the many varieties of pumpkins available at Farmer’s Market that Saturday morning. So how many kinds are there? A website for seeds (http://www.johnnyseeds.com) lists 67 pumpkin varieties. Looking at the pictures, I counted 45, almost 70%, bright orange ones. Only one was the color of every jack-o-lantern my daddy helped me cut.

The seeds available on the website promise to grow pumpkins in many shapes and colors, and all sizes! Most are traditional round shapes, but some look like gourds and one like a banana. Most are bright orange, but some are green or blue-green or white or speckled with orange and green splotches. The Marina Di Chioggia variety is the size of a softball and has a “blistery, bubbled, slate blue-green rind.” A five pound Bliss has a “mottled appearance that resembles a frog’s skin.”

The Dill’s Atlantic Giant variety commonly grows to be 100 pounds and can be up to 1500 pounds. I wonder if the 1405 pound pumpkin that won first place for giant pumpkin at the Great Pumpkin Festival in Allardt, Tennessee a couple of weeks ago was a Dill’s Atlantic?

While my Grand and I wandered through Farmer’s Market that day, I told her that she could choose a pumpkin to take home. One that would be all her own. She chose a tiny one – bright orange of course – that just fit in her small hand. I’m pretty sure it’s a Wee-B-Little.

And I bought two pumpkins for fall decorations, although my Grand said they probably weren’t real pumpkins because they weren’t the right color. A soccer ball size white one and a green and white striped one that looks like a big gourd. And we bought a tall, bright orange one to cut for a jack-o-lantern. Why choose a faded pumpkin when you can have a bright orange one?

Filed under: Autumn, Halloween | Tagged: Farmer's Market, pumpkin | Leave a comment »

Not As It Seems

Posted on October 9, 2014 by susanrray

I’m blessed with four Grands between the ages of 1½ and 5½. I love the toddler stage, and I’m always entertained by the way young children see the world. Their confusion that everything isn’t literal or as it seems.

Elaine is 3 ½ and she became very upset over something that happened to her older sister, Ruth. While on a recent vacation with Daughter and her family, Ruth and I got out of the swimming pool and sat in the hot tub. Ruth eased herself in front of one of the jets and her loose swim shirt quickly filled with air. “Look, Elaine!” she laughed and called to sister. “Look at my bathing suit!” Elaine came running toward the hot tub, saw Ruth, and then froze in place. Elaine’s eyes grew big. She put both hands over her mouth and screamed, “No! No! Get out! Get out!’ I assured Elaine that Ruth was okay. Ruth got out of the hot tub and Elaine helped her pat the bathing suit flat against her body. Elaine looked at Ruth’s chest and back under her bathing suit. When Ruth turned to get back in the hot tub, Elaine screamed, “No! Don’t get in!” There was no way to convince Elaine that Ruth wouldn’t inflate, like a balloon.

When Dean was barely 2 ½, his mother asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. Dean looked off into space and didn’t answer. Thinking he needed some hints, his mother suggested that he might be a fireman or policeman. Dean frowned, turned his head side to side and said, “Big. Grow up big!” He was three years old when he went grocery shopping with his mother and saw a carton of brown eggs in a clear plastic package. “Look! Chocolate eggs! Get those,” he told his mother.

David was five when he saw the sunrise at the beach. “Look! The sun came out of the water!” The same sun that stayed all night in the water; it went in the water in one place and came out another.

My Grands take me back to the time my own children were toddlers. I thought that Son, age 4 and Daughter, age 5 ½ could help me paint a play table. I gave each of them a brush and poured a small amount of blue paint into two flat-bottomed plastic bowls. We determined which half of the table each of them would paint and for a few minutes, all went well. Most of the washable blue paint was spread on the tabletop and most drips landed on the newspapers that covered the garage floor. Then Daughter complained that Son was painting a leg on her section of the table. I said, “Eric, paint your legs,” and I went into the house for one minute to get something. Eric followed my directions perfectly. He completely covered both his own legs with blue paint.

Toddlers. Trying to understand the whys and causes and directions. Aren’t we all?

Filed under: Grandchildren, Kids Say Funny Things | Tagged: funny things kids say, Grandchildren, not literal | Leave a comment »

Beach Musings

Posted on October 3, 2014 by susanrray

I pushed my beach chair directly under an umbrella so I could hide from the hot afternoon sun, and I sat down. I opened the book I’d saved to read during my beach vacation, but first I wanted to soak up the moment, which turned into more than moments, and I never read a single word.

How far to the horizon, where the bright blue sky meets the deep aqua colored water? A few people swam in the ocean; others strolled along the water’s edge; others, wearing ear buds and presumably listening to a favorite playlist, jogged; others sat two and three together. Children rode the gentle waves on boogie boards and ran after the sandpipers and dug holes in the sand that they filled with water. People all around, but it wasn’t the people that entertained me.

How can a sea gull stand on one leg for 5 minutes? His one black leg and webbed foot never wavered, even when the ocean breeze blew forcefully. He stood with frozen body as the feathers on his back ruffled and he turned his head from side to side. He lowered his leg, picked up the other, and stood even longer. After his rest, he flew, joining fellow gulls that soared over my umbrella.

How long do sea gulls live? Do they stay in the same general area throughout their lives? Do they have a particular place along the beach that is home? A place to sleep?

A lone dark gray and black pigeon thinks he’s a sea gull. He hopped, rather timidly, close to my chair and fluttered away when I threw sand toward him. Where’s his home? His flock? Did he get left behind?

Are the dolphins that swim from the west to east the same ones that swam in the opposite direction earlier in the day? How far do they travel each day? A small pod, five or six, must have discovered an early supper. They stirred the water, arching their sleek bodies above it. One dolphin thrilled all of us watching from the shore; he jumped high out of the water and danced on his tail.

A flock of pelicans flew overhead in a V formation. One line of the V was shorter than the other. When the leader at the vertex drops to the back of a line, will it find its place on the shorter side? If the same number of birds fly on each side, does the flock stay together better?

What possible purpose could small black flies have? One lit on my leg and before I could smack it, it bit me. How can something so small cause such an intense pain?

The dragonflies are gone. Not a single one in sight. Yet, two days ago, as the gray rain clouds gathered, dragonflies swarmed around the green shrubs and grass planted outside our rented condo. They lingered for twenty-four hours, some wandering to the beach. Why did they come out in full force when it rained? Where do they hide on warm, sunny days?

I close my eyes. Ah, the beach. A perfect place to nap.

Filed under: Places, Travel | Tagged: Beach, dolphin, pelican, sea gull | 1 Comment »

Flying Alone

Posted on September 28, 2014 by susanrray

V is for Vulnerable. That’s the name of the book I just saw at the airport bookstore and that’s me. Vulnerable. Alone. Many people walk along the wide corridors of the Nashville airport. Walk with partners. With spouses. Friends. Children. I walk alone.

Will someone help me, or better yet, take my carry-on suitcase out of my hands and lift it to the overhead compartment? I envision an empty overhead bin with the latch open and I heave-ho my forty-pound suitcase two feet above my shoulders. Who am I kidding? I can barely lift 20 pounds on the shoulder push machine at the YMCA. I should’ve checked my bag. So what if I wait 20 minutes for it at the Denver airport?

And it’s raining. I hate flying on stormy days. The plane ride will be like a racecar on a county gravel road fill with potholes. What if I throw up? I never had motion sickness until five years ago. I hate throwing up. Wonder who will be sitting beside me? Watch the clock. Go to bathroom one last time before boarding the plane. At the water fountain, I refill my water bottle that I bought. How could I forget to bring a water bottle from home? $2.61 wasted on a bottle of water.

“’Mam,” a young man stands behind me when I turned from the water fountain. “Aren’t you from Cookeville?” I nod and smile. “Yes, I am,” I say.

“I’m Joe Bulow and I thought I recognized you,” he says. I tell him my name and that his mother and I are in a writing group and a book club together. Joe, his wife, Wendy, and their two young sons were traveling on the same flight to Denver. They live in Colorado Springs, her hometown. I’m not alone! I know someone’s name on the plane and his mother is my friend.

From two boarding gates away, I see that my flight is boarding. I get to my assigned boarding place just as the line moves toward the person collecting boarding passes. A young couple, with moon eyes only for each other, walks in front of me; a teenage girl behind me. Not good prospects for lifting my heavy bag. Surely there’s a strong man on this flight. I look for an aisle seat- not too far back. I have to carry this heavy bag through the aisle.

Just four rows back, I see a woman sitting by the window, two empty seats beside her and an empty overhead bin. I throw my oversized purse in the aisle seat and began to lift my suitcase. Did the man offer to help or did I ask for help? He’s not young, older than me. I hold one end of the bag. “Just let me do it,” he says. His reply to my thanks is a big smile, a nod, and “You’re welcome.”

The woman sitting beside me flies often and her daughter is a Tennessee Tech student. We quickly make connections. The airplane dips and bumps until finally, forty minutes into the flight, it flies smoothly. No more rain and dips and bumps.

Now I wonder will that same gentleman get my heavy suitcase down for me when it’s time to we get off the plane? Why fret? Things seem to work out.

Filed under: Travel | Tagged: airplane, fly alone, heavy suitcase, things work out | 1 Comment »

A Long Term Project

Posted on September 17, 2014 by susanrray

As I read the articles in Sunday’s newspaper about this weekend’s Upper Cumberland Quilt Festival in Algood, I promised myself that by September 2015 I’ll finish a quilt that that my grandmother began in 1966.

After my mother’s death, in 1991, I found among her sewing stash a box filled with fabric that had cross-stitched floral designs. Cross-stitch is form of counted-thread embroidery and the X-shaped stitches form a picture. I stuck the box in a dresser drawer and there it stayed until six years ago. That’s when I realized there were thirty, fifteen-inch white cotton squares, cross-stitched in burgundy and pink thread, and all the same design. Every square was covered with blue dots, which I recognized as quilting stitch lines, forming curvy designs. And I found a receipt, dated 1966, for $4.94, for the quilt kit and shipping from Lee Wards, a needlework company.

Because I thought my Grandma Gladys was the only person in our family who cross-stitched, I assumed that her only living daughter at the time, my aunt, would want her mother’s work. I was wrong. “Oh, no, that’s yours,” Aunt Doris said. “Your mother and my mother both worked on those quilt squares. Your mother bought the kit and did some of the cross-stitching. It’s yours.”

How could I let Grandma’s and Mother’s work lay in a box? I took the squares to Velma Thompson, my quilt expert friend, and asked for advice. Should I stitch the pieces together on the sewing machine? Piece it with strips of pink between squares? Velma told me that because my grandmother and mother had done such detailed cross stitching that the quilt should be set together by hand and to only use the thirty squares. It would be a big quilt: six blocks long, five across and I should add a six-inch border, with a quilted design.

I hand-stitched the pieces and border and paid a quilt shop professional to machine baste the quilt top, batting, and backing together. Then I again visited Velma. She quizzed me about my hand quilting experience. I’d never quilted. Didn’t know to use tiny quilting needles or special quilting thread. Nor did I know how to rock a needle through three layers.

Velma threaded a needle, showed me how to secure the thread’s end without tying a knot, and sat beside me as I made my first quilting stitches. And she told me that straight-line quilting is much easier than the curvy printed design stamped on my quilt, but that I must take my time and put this quilt down to do other sewing. I should consider it a long term project. Velma also said that my daughter and granddaughter must do some quilting, even a few stitches, so it would be a five-generation quilt.

Six years ago, I began quilting. This quilt has been all over the house. Beside my TV chair and close to my favorite reading spot and in the kitchen. But I’ve rarely quilted. I’ve finished only twelve squares. There are 18 more. Plus quilting the border and stitching the binding. I’ll do it.

This is a public commitment and surely, surely I’ll do it. September 2015, I’ll have Grandma Gladys’s and Mother’s quilt completed. I will. I will. With my daughter’s and granddaughters’ help.

See you this weekend, September 19-20, at Upper Cumberland Quilt Festival. I hope to see all 600 quilts.

Filed under: Quilting | Tagged: quilt, Quilt Festival | Leave a comment »

My Grands Said

Posted on September 10, 2014 by susanrray

We’ve just celebrated Grandparents’ Day so it’s perfect time to share some notes that I’ve written recently in a little notebook entitled, “My Grands Said.” When my oldest Grand was two and screamed “ ’Cuse you!” because he wanted everyone out of his way, I grabbed a pen and a blank notebook. Kids truly say the funniest things.

While grocery shopping with his mother, three-year-old Dean saw a carton of brown eggs. “Look, there’s chocolate eggs!” he said. “Get those!”

Elaine, also age 3, sat in my lap and held a small wooden Pinocchio in her hand. “Gran, do you know who this is?” She cut her eyes to look up at me. “It’s Mr. Pokey Nose!” she said and raised her shoulders and giggled. I imitated her giggle and said, “Oh, I think his name is Pinocchio.” Elaine closed her eyes and whispered, “But Mr. Pokey Nose is funnier.”

I told Elaine about a little girl named Maddie. “Is she mad all the time?” my Grand asked. I explained that her name is really Madelyn and Maddie is a nickname. “Well, she must be mad that they call her that,” Elaine said.

This spring, Husband and I took two of our Grands, Ruth, age 5, and Elaine to the Monterey Easter Egg Hunt. On the way up the mountain I said, “The town we’re going to is Monterey.” Ruth asked, “Is that where the butterflies are?” “I don’t know. Why?” I said.

“Well, there’s monterey butterflies, you know,” my Grand said. “Are you thinking of monarch butterflies?” I asked. My Grand was silent for a minute. “Maybe. But, you know what, Gran? I still think there’ll be butterflies in Monterey.”

Six-week-old Micah was crying as he sat in his bouncy seat so I picked him up and held him in my arms. He continued to cry, just as loudly as before. Big Sisters Ruth and Elaine stood close by. Elaine said, “Gran, are….?” I didn’t understand the rest of her question, even though she shouted it two times. I asked older sister Ruth what Elaine said. “She said, ‘Are you going to take him home with you?’ ” I told her I wasn’t. In a loud, clear voice, Elaine said, “I wish you would!”

Lou is a second grader and was working on math while she and I sat at my kitchen table. The task was to write word numbers and the question asked how many colors on a traffic light. Looking off into space, Lou said, “It’s mostly black and there’s white around the circles and there’s… ” She hesitated and I explained that the question probably meant how many colors light up in the circles, like red for stop. “Why didn’t it just say that?” my Grand exclaimed. The next question asked how many pages in the reading book. “Which reading book? Surely not all of those!” She pointed to the large collection of children’s books on my bookshelf.

While his mother drove the car, Dean rode in the backseat and announced, “We’re racing that police car, Mommy! We’re winning!” Mother explained that the police officer was simply driving his car in the lane beside their car.

Elaine held a magic wand over my head and asked, “Gran, what do you want to be? A doll or a stuffie?” I’m happy just being a Gran.

Filed under: Children, Grandchildren, Kids Say Funny Things | Tagged: Grandchildren, kids say the funniest things, my grands said | 2 Comments »

It’s Another Night

Posted on September 4, 2014 by susanrray

Finally, it was another night. A night when Elaine, our 3-year-old granddaughter, spent the night with Husband and me all by herself. Some time ago she realized that her three older siblings take turns spending a night each week, so our young Grand often asked, “Gran, can I stay all night with you and Pop? All by myself?”

Elaine has spent the night when one of her siblings stayed, and she climbed out of her bed many times before she finally fell asleep. Her brother or sister helped convince her to go to sleep. I’d hoped that she’d learn to stay in bed before she came by herself.

When she first began to ask to stay all by herself, I’d say, “Yes, sometime, Elaine,” and her mother would say, “Another night.” The she’d say, “Another night?” I agreed and she was happy. Recently, Elaine asked to spend the night almost every time I saw her. Last week she said, “Gran, can I stay all night with you and Pop? All by myself? I’ll stay in bed.” I nodded and hugged her. Elaine wrapped her arms around my neck and said, “Yes! Is it another night?”

Elaine says the funniest things. At suppertime, I offered peaches, cantaloupe, or blueberries. “Peaches,” Elaine said. “But I like oranges best. So can I have oranges? Will you go buy some now?”

Elaine stood on a chair close beside me while I cut up the peaches. I said, “Elaine, look at the seed. Do you want to hold it?” I laid the seed in her open hands. Her eyes grew big, she open her mouth wide and said, “Gran! That amazing!’ She squeezed and rubbed the seed until it was dry.

When I set a small bowl full of macaroni and cheese on Elaine’s placemat, she stuck her spoon in it and immediately said, “Gran, can I have milk in here?” I nodded and turned toward the refrigerator, but before I could answer, she said, ”May I have some milk in here? Pllllllease?” As I held a gallon of milk in my hand, I said, “Yes, I’m getting… “ Elaine’s voice overrode mine. “Gran, did you know I like milk in mac and cheese?” I assured I did. “How did you know that, Gran?” she asked.

Elaine likes to use the very small baby fork. She turned the fork upside down and propped the tines on the side her plate, the handle on the table. “Look, it’s a tunnel. Just a little one, like for ants.”

I really wanted my Grand to go to bed and stay there so I followed her home bedtime routine. She brushed her teeth. Took a warm bath. Put on her pajamas. And together we chose four books to read aloud. I sat on the couch and she settled herself onto my lap. She picked up Brown Bear, Brown Bear. “Read this one first!” Elaine said. As soon as I finished reading, she said, “Read it again and this time I’ll read.” She told the story as I turned the pages. Finally, Goodnight Moon was the last book to read. “Gran, did you know this book makes me really sleepy?”

By the time I read the last good night, Elaine was snuggled against me and asleep. Husband carried her to bed, and she didn’t get out of bed all night. There’ll be many more ‘another nights’ for Elaine.

Filed under: Grandchildren, Kids Say Funny Things | Tagged: another night, Grand spend night, Grandchildren | 1 Comment »

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