A degree in just 18 months!
Online?
Nope, onfloor.
In want to hide from the news, the newspaper, horrific events, the flu, this side/that side - unintentional slobber allover the monitor as we rant, name call, piss, moan, yada....... I needed a break.
It's Winter, so I started my car to warm it up - Mother Nature painted a partial inch of ice on it - and I ran back inside to await it to melt. As I did so, I started to cuss myself for wearing my (now drenched) house slippers, thought better of it and reminded me "At least our town is still small, kinda, you can start your car and the odds are still in the 90 percentile it will still be there when you go back out."
Jumped in the easy chair, covered myself with a 'throw', one last cuppa coffee... A text to across town.. "Is Littlefeet up yet?"
I needed a break. A respite. A feel good. Littlefeet is my 18 month old granddaughter. Yep, she's my granddaughter, but - we could be talking about any kiddo (your G-kid, kid, sibling, yada) that makes for a feel good.
I get edjumacated every time I see her.
Last gulp of coffee, YIPPEE my car is still there in this, our beautiful little town (ironically infamous for the 1st ever daylight bank robbery. Go figure.)
I pushed huge mostly melted sheets of ice off the windows, the hood, even the top. Jumped in, ahhhhh, warmth... Put it in Drive, headed away, tapped the brakes - yep, it's ok. They'd put down a good measure of rock salt, life is good. (In this day and age, sometimes I think they should use crunched up Rolaids insteada rock salt - but agin', we're taking a break from all that.)
I knock. Door opens. I see a huge smile, hear musings of happiness that I have no idea what exactly is said, but I just know - she's as happy as I am to see her as she - me. Hasta la vista baby --> news, newspaper, argument, name calling, heightened blood pressure - my 18 month old granddaughter is an elixir. Again, could be anyone's youngster.
The brain ain't ripe......... or is it? Happiness abounds. The pitter patter comes my way, the arms point upward, and I smile for the very first time since we sunk under 32 degrees. She melts me. My grandkid, could be yours, your kid, your sibling, I dunno.
At 18 months, we're awarded. After our initial meet and greet (hug, smooch) the pitter patter starts again - back in the dining room she's found some small toy from yesterday's Happy Meal, it's toted and presented to me. THANK YOU! (You gotta act like it's the greatest thing since they put granola in Raisin Bran when they are that age.).. pitter patter, mom's coin purse.. THANK YOU!... another trip, a small mirror, THANK YOU!.. A 7 inch twig from the plant on the kitchen table, THANK YOU!
Littlefoot makes happy. Educating me at 18 months, that life's good, it's simple, I'm a small stuff, I ain't gonna sweat it.
I gently place all of my trophies on one side of the easy chair - she climbs in my lap - and I take out my phone to show her pictures of her.. and mom.. and dad.. and brother.. and sister.. she's mesmerized by how they all fit in there, but they do. After 40 or so pics, recounting "There's Bella - that's YOU!" 25 times or so, I notice boredom setting in. So I YouTube "blue Russian cats" cause they got one.
We watch many minutes of those clips.. The only real mostly legible word I hear all morning ("Luuuunaaaa", the Blue Russian).. so we watch.. we touch it.. we hear it.. (Luna does too and it's driving her to be a Luna-tic... Luna's brain also ain't ripe, she's 8 months or so old, can't figure out whereintheheck this other cat is, but it's all good.)
In 20 minutes time, I'd smiled, laughed, loved, lifted, smooched, hugged, and my brain was taken away from slaughter, the 2nd Amendment, the gas bill (remember, it's dang cold), the rising price of petrol, folks in a hurry, debates, all... SHE'D EDJUMACATED ME.
Simple. It's the simple things. Onto the floor for more education. We crawled. We rolled. We giggled. We chased.. We laughed. My beautiful elixir - yum.
Upright now (we can do more).. We ran - to nowhere. As an adult, I think this should be a part of our day, every day. Nope, I ain't talking whilst with lil' ones (of course that's heavenly though) - I'm talking we should take lesson from them, and at some point in the day simply get up, run somewhere, happily, smiling, and not necessarily in a straight line (in fact, bobbing and weaving evokes even more smile.)
18 month olds set example. Life is fun (or should be). Ya don't even haveta know how to talk to have fun. Follow me.
After an hour or so, Grandpa is no big thrill any longer, she's disinterested, climbs two half-flights of stairs. There's a 15 foot open walkway between this bedroom and that bedroom that overlooks the living room below. She's got Barbie in her left hand. (I think she's lefthanded which delights me to no end.) Barbie is now on the 'uh oh' side of the bannister rail, and yep.. soon she is tossed and falls fifteen feet to the ground. The North side of the sofa is the danger area, so no one sits there. Ya never know when she's gonna grab a 2 pound object and fling it - and it has happened.
Victor, what's so fun about that? You mean, you've never tossed a rock from a cliff? Thrown a penny into a fountain? Tossed something from a bridge into the water below? IT'S DELIGHT. It's simple. It's fun. My brain ain't ripe (or is it).."Watch me, I'll teach you fun."
The day before we all attended a funeral. Sad, but a celebration of a very long life - but "he's home, a feeling of unconditional love.".. Anyways, after the visitation, funeral, burial - we gathered for lunch at the church. My 18 month old let me play with her a long time there.
You ever get out on a football field and just simply run around? Yeah, me neither, but I bet it's fun. The room we were in, the large empty space, it HAD TO look like a football field to her. We ran, did the bob and weave.. she fell, time and again (Remember, she's small stuff, she ain't sweatin' little oopsies like that).. .we laughed... I've never seen so much energy in someone that was two hours past naptime. (She taught me too about naps, yum.)
Oh, and tables. She's getting very adept at getting on chairs now. From there, in an instant she's got a foot placed on top of the table, and that's where the grandparent cop steps in. Has nothing to do with fearing she'll one day be a stripper, it's moreso for her own safety in not falling. A baby groan, then a quick remembrance "life is good, let's find something else fun this grandpa cop will lemme do."
I REPEAT: day in day out we park, drive, swerve, think, overthink, and try to figure this damn thing called life out.
It's pretty simple - or so my 18 month old has edjumacated me. When a you see a visitor, friend, loved one, yada, you get excited as can be. It feels good for you, it feels good for them. You give presents - we ALL like presents, it feels good to give, good to receive.
We run, to nowhere. We clap, for no reason other than happiness. We bob, we weave. We throw things off bridges. It's ok if somewhere along the way in doing those things we get bored, we'll just switch to another simple, happy one. Ya climb on toppa tables. (Ever been to a boring, long meeting around a conference table? Uh huh, me too.. how fun would they be though if you could climb on the table and lend one's point of view? Hella fun, that's what.)
OK, I'll stop. Thanks for being here. It's my hope that, even if you ain't got someone near 18 months of age in your life that you either have had, or will have. I've learned a lot from her.
The very best part? When it's time for "life, the drudgery must go on" - there's the returned BLOWN KISS. Yum. Her eyes, our fun, that kid, she melts me.
Happy day.. it's easy.. or so she's edjumacated me that it is.
Love, Victurd
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