Child Does Something Special for His Dad

Nolan is a sweet child, always making presents for loved ones. He gets out his little crayons and scissors and cuts and pastes masterpieces for everyone he loves. 

I see him engrossed in his artwork where tiny pieces of colored paper fall to the floor around him. Paste, covered with marker and duct tape, sticks to my table.

He uses whatever is at his disposal to make his gifts and when he is finished, he hands his creative items to recipients who fawn over them as if they are Rembrandts. 

He is also one who doesn't shy away from the kitchen. He'll whip up chocolate syrup peanut butter sandwiches for the entire family at 8:00 a.m. just to be nice.

So when Nolan's father, who had been feeling ill the past few days, mentioned more than once that Nolan needed a haircut, Nolan (being Nolan) thought, "I'll do something special for my dad."

Nolan's Gift for His Dad (that's hair on the milk gallon)

He didn't realize after he cut his hair, how his hair would look.
Here he is embarrassed, but Grandma thinks
he's still a handsome little man.

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Grandma is So Annoying!

Nolan, Avery, and Audrey

When I'm around kids, I tend to sing – a lot – nothing you would know, mind you, because I make up my own songs, and I don't have a very good voice, but I can't help myself. I have a macaroni and cheese song, for instance, and others that just come to me as I work around the kitchen.

I think the reason I sing is because I find it hard to concentrate even when what I'm making is something simple. In large groups, I often sing in my head, just to avoid the distraction of other people who will confuse me just by their presence. 

Holidays are especially difficult, because I might be preparing several things at once, and I usually forget at least one item because somebody interrupted my train of thought. Whenever that train leaves the station I'm pretty much assured that it will make several stops along the way and just stay where it lands regardless of where the destination was supposed to bring me. This past Thanksgiving, for instance, I forgot the stuffing.

Anyway, I'd like to share with you my annoying habit. Here is me singing to myself as I grab slices of bread, peanut butter, jelly, a spoon, and a knife so that Audrey and Nolan can make their own PB&J sandwiches (remember, I'm singing – repeatedly) – so here, for your enjoyment (or agitation), is my song (you'll have to make up your own tune):

A spoon and a knife and a spoon and a knife and a spoon and a knife and a spoon.

A spoon and a knife and a spoon and a knife and a spoon and a knife and a spoon.

A spoon and a knife

A spoon and a knife

And a spoon and a knife and a spoon

In my defense, if I hadn't sung to myself, I might have forgotten the spoon and the knife (remember the stuffing?)

After I sang the song, I heard this:

Nolan: (to me after about the fifth time of hearing the song) You're being annoying.

Audrey: (to Nolan) You're being mean.

Nolan: (to Audrey, agitated) I'm not being mean.

Me: Nolan, do you really think I'm being annoying?

Nolan: Yeah. But I'm not being mean; you're really being annoying.

I love that my grandkids are so honest.

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My Crabby Granddaughter

Audrey with Mysterious Orb

Audrey was not in a good mood yesterday. Mostly she complained about her mom working and not being home for her. Unusual for Audrey, she was particularly crabby yesterday and no amount of teasing would snap her out of it.

She became easily frustrated over homework, threw her pencil across the table, and stomped around the house. When her mom came home, I told Brittney, "One of your kids was REALLY crabby today." 

Nolan and Avery were oblivious to the comment, but Audrey immediately lowered her head, puckered out her lips, and crossed her eyebrows. I think she was amazed that her mom figured out which one was the culprit.

Shortly after I arrived home, Audrey called me. 

"I'm sorry, Grandma."

I wanted to make sure she knew why she was apologizing. "For what?"

"For being mean."

"You weren't being mean, Audrey. You were being crabby."

"I'm sorry for being crabby."

I was sure Brittney prompted the phone call. "Did your mom tell you to call me?"

"No, I called you myself."

Oh, what pride I felt, that Audrey took it upon herself to apologize to me with no prompting whatsoever from her mom. I had to let Audrey know how I was feeling.

"I'm so proud of you, Audrey. Nobody had to tell you to call me. You did it by yourself."

"Yeah, I had to call you; I didn't want to be on Santa's naughty list."

~~~

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