I read the news today oh boy... and it wasn't about a lucky man..
It was about our Governor, our President, the FBI, witch hunts, bombings in Syria, local shootings, car wrecks, missing kids.. a trip thru the obits (I know, people think it's goofy to look at them.. I do so because I don't want to be embarrassed into the future and ask "How's so and so?" only to learn "Didn't you hear?".. and in the obits this morning THE most beautiful smile ever, and the sadness that accompanies the reality this smile will never grace the earth again (but, how lucky they are in Heaven today)...
Anyways... I got a belly full of yuck... like, just after downing a bowl of cereal only to learn the milk expired 6 days ago.. the hamburger you just had sat out too long, and now you must pay... find the nearest trash can, porcelain, shade tree to hide behind.
Jaded, I guess the message is.
Repeating (I'm old, I certainly do that) "do not blog about yourself, it's boring to others." SO, FAIR WARNING. This is kinda sorta about me, but moreso about Bella. Who's Bella?
Bella is my youngest grandchild - she will be 2 July 27... Victor, why the 180 degree turn to talk about her?
Well, because she ain't jaded. She hasn't read the news. It's made sure her milk is current, fresh... She ain't been exposed to yuck.
So then tell me Victor, how does this Bella act? (Danger danger warning warning, bias ahead)...
Well, before we go there, I'd like to share my conversation I had with my oldest grandkid, Aubrie, 1st grade, as I was taking her to school yesterday. It's only 4 blocks, so we gotta visit fast:
"Hey Aub... do you realize how special it is to be the oldest sibling, you know, older than your little brother Kendal (5) and Bella (not quite 2)?"
"No Papa Vic, what do you mean?"
"I mean you set the example, and that's huge."
"What do you mean, and how would I do that?"
"Well, you can teach them to be nice.. like Bella, she can't really talk yet, so you can teach her things to say and show her how to be nice."
"BELLA'S ALREADY NICE." And she's right, she is. A very prejudiced grandfather relates "the only time she is cranky is when she's hungry or when she's tired - you absolutely couldn't mail order for anyone better."
Jaded, she ain't jaded. For her, hearing Greitens, Trump, Mueller, FBI, car wreck, bombings, losing Sprint jobs is akin to hearing Elmo, Bert and Ernie, Big Bird, Cookie Monster and yeah, I guess even Oscar the Grouch.
To the park we go. Are there any other grandparents out there who have taken an hour and a half to safely hook up an infant carseat? After finally getting it in, I attempt to put the two thingybobs over her shoulders and there's no way in hell they're gonna be long enough. Fifteen minutes later and an "I give up" knock on the door to get mom ("Can you help?") I learn there's a simple button you push to make the harness straps longer.
All the while, doesn't effect (or is that affect?) Bella. She's all smiles. This is only the 2nd time she's been in a car without mom/dad.
So, we're strapped in, off we go. Discussion about which park to go to flies right over Bella's head just as Trump, Mueller, Greitens, witch hunt, ISIS, yada do. We settle on "The treehouse park."
We pull in, and before I can get outta the dadgum car the two older ones are unstrapped, out, and a football field away at the play equipment. I get to Bella, firmly strapped in the backseat, and she shoots another smile that melts. She's unaware she's a football field behind, she has no idea if we're in Missouri, Kansas or Saskatchewan.
She's unleashed, and off she goes. Of course, in the complete opposite direction of the play equipment. I hail her down. The little shit (said lovingly) is not yet two, but she already runs faster than me. I grab her hand, turn toward the play equipment, that doesn't work, so I pick her up and tote here. I had minor surgery last Friday, ain't supposed to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk until this Friday, but hey, this is my grandbaby, sorry doc.
The park is complete with climbing goodies, a treehouse, swings, a huge sandbox, a huge rope geosphere where you (well, they) can climb 12' high...
The Park Department has just been to Lowes and purchased a hunnerd thousand bags of mulch. Bella's first mission is to pickup a piece of mulch, one at a time, and fetch to Papa Vic. (She ain't jaded, I'm loving this.)
Next, she finds a bigger stick, maybe a foot long. She now takes it to find any kind of object to clank it on to discover what sound it makes. You know, kinda "to heck with the $5,000 swingset, I wanna clank this stick on stuff." Perfect though, unjaded, learning, discovering.
To the sandbox next. "WOW, this is cool" Bella says, without saying. She tosses it from one hand to the other, digs a bit, throws some up in the air only to learn "no, that ain't so fun" (Doesn't frown though) and has a blast going her own way, doing her own thing. By now she's fallen maybe 24 times, and has giggled each and every time she has done so.
Brief boredom sets in (Wait till you get older kiddo and read the morning newspaper, it gets worse) so, she finds another stick and proceeds to pound the neighbor kid's bike to ascertain what noise it makes. "NO honey, we can't do that." Which again, I coulda said Mueller, Trump, Elmo, Cookie Monster and she wouldn't have had a clue.
So, remembering the "Don't lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk" I pick her up, tote her down to the swing, safely away from the kid's bike. She loves swinging, so I pick her up to set her inside one... she started mumbling (I think it was the song "I'm Free" by The Who, not sure) wants no part of swinging, but, being Bella she doesn't complain, she simply gets her way, so I put her down.
There was a 2 foot round puddle under one swing, and this would be our game of choice for the next half hour. Hitting it with the stick didn't really make a cool sound, but it did send yucky splatters allover her beautiful dress, so of course, "I'm gonna do that." I thought about being Nurse Retched ("Your mom and dad will shoot me") but then again, I remembered occasional consternation her dad put me through so I simply cheer led from the side "You go girl!")
Splash, giggle, splash, giggle, sit in it, giggle, stomp it, giggle. Forty minutes later, there's but a trace of water left in the puddle. The other kids are behaving, we've had a few smidgits "I'm afraid of heights, can you help me down from this thing" (The geosphere).. sure kid, hop on my back, sorry again doc... grandson was playing with a toy gun some kid had left.. kid came back to park looking for it, grandson hid it somewhere.. "Where is it?.. thought he was in trouble, wasn't.. wouldn't go show me where he hid it, a bit stress, finally found it - and all this time Bella was splashing, giggling, trying to get dirt on the parts of her dress that didn't yet have dirt on them.
I'll fast forward. By now I've lifted her 17 times, moved her to safer grounds. She hasn't fussed one iota. Us three kids (me and the two older grands) were by now ready for ice cream. Bella, the budding Ringo Starr, has clanged every object there is to clang, gotten ridda all the puddle, rearranged the sandpit to look like Bigfoot had been there - time to head.
The olders quickly sped to the car, 100 yards away, buckled themselves in, were awaiting Bella and I. I fetched her (sorry Doc) halfway down the hill.. put her down, walked ahead. After a few, the older kids hollered "Are you coming?".. I hear a faint giggle, turned around, Miss Bella was now some 60 yards UP the hill (opposite direction of the car) clanging her stick on the geosphere frame. "BELLA, come on!" I called out, which might as well have been "Mueller? Big Bird? Elmo? Let's go!" As usual, she was mid-giggle/smile, so, I go fetch her (sorry doc), carry her halfway down the hill.. put her down for a brief respite..
Of course, off she tries to head back up the hill, I grab her arm, she's laughing almost hysterically as I pull while she tugs to go back up to our unjaded play area... I finally, again, tote her (sorry Doc).. in a jiffy (ten minutes) I've got her all snapped in the carseat. We're off for ice cream.
Papa Vic plays dealmaker: Bella is in the middle. "Aubrie, we're gonna get 4 cups of ice cream.. I'll keep one up here for you, but I'd like for you to take Bella's, help her to eat some - you can have some of hers too - and when we get home, I'll give you "the new one".. She figures out this is a good deal.. "Ok Papa Vic."
McDonalds line is huge, taking a long time. Off to Wendy's.. Frostys are cheaper anyways.. Line there too, but not as bad.
I hear Aub say "Papa Vic, do you still want me to feed Bella hers? She's zonked."
And she was. Reading the newspaper, watching the news, seeing obits, Mueller, Trump, Greitens, Sprint, car wrecks, shootings, bombings - ALL lead me to wanna take a nap.
Not Bella. She's unjaded. She had hella fun en route to her snooze - it was great cause for a grandparent smile thinking of same. Clink, splash, throw, run, grab, sit, jump, stomp, wet, sandy, dirt, dirty, clank, run (the other way).. unjaded.
Papa Vic? Can we get some Gummies too? (Now there's a twenty minute ordeal unsnapping/snapping those little termites to go into the store).."Not today guys, maybe tomorrow."
Give me a break, give me a break.
Bella, thank you for the break - if only the world was as unjaded as you. Your Papa Vic loves you.
Love, Victurd
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