I'm biased. My grandson, a kindergartner, is a cute little dude. The kinda cuteness, that you/I, as a grandparent, see 'em across the room and ya just wanna go hug 'em. His smile melts. His missing teeth remind "this is temporary, watch me, remember me, cause I ain't always gonna be this size, age, person."
Roomba. Lord knows my apartment needs a Roomba. My disdain for cleaning my house ranks up there with the thought of donning an MAGA hat. Kendal, my grandson, reminds me of Roomba. He gets in his 'charger' (bed), awakens, and then it's go go go. I usedta coulda done that, huh uh, not now.
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Roomba, my grandson, not the bouncing vacuum, sometimes forgets in school he ain't supposedta Roomba. If I were an old person, ha, I would say "Why back in my day, every desk was the same, but we were relegated to a specific row, chair, and I was pigeonholed somewhere between Savage and Smith. I knew where I was supposedta sit, and I did that."
Nowadays, they've got 23 different kinda chairs (could be a stool, a bright red chair, a green milk crate, a yellow bucket with a blue, soft bean bag top, yada.). Point is, ya know which one's yours, where to go, where to sit. Roomba, my beloved Grandson, in his excitement, zest for life, sometimes forgets that.
Thus, thanks to Pavlovian ways, Roomba, er I mean Kendal, oft times finds himself in a detour to the 'safe room'. Time out as we usedta call it. There's nothing venomous in his pursuit, he simply goes, goes and goes, and it must be learned, sometimes ya just gotta sit sit sit.
Preschool helped him quite a bit, but there's still, and always has been, an exploratory mode inside him. We'd go to the park, whilst his sister galavanted between the swing, the slide, the climbing thingy, Kendal was jumping over the 3 foot tall retaining wall encircling, running with angst to discover what lays beyond. His wimpy grandfather, while not a fan of "the slot car way of life", would run, gather, and very wimply say "ya can't do that buddy, ya gotta stay over here."
I know he will 'iron out', and I bless patient teachers, administration who haven't decided to force feed Ritalin down him. He's a good, good kid.
Recently, and I know I've got a big mouth, keyboard and I've already shared this dirty laundry - recently, my car shot craps. So I found this (to me) adorable looking Silver PT Cruiser with a black convertible top. It ain't been a Roomba. Four days after purchase, the computer went out....short story long, some TWENTY days later, after mailing my new computer from NY, sending it back cause it didn't work, finally getting the 'new one', an added trip to the transmission shop - I can now drive in excess of 25 miles per hour. (Ever drive 7 miles to the Piggly Wiggly, plan said route to where you won't hold up traffic by going top end 25 mph? Uh huh, I have. WalMart, across the highway, was outta question for most of April.)
Where was I? Oh yeah, Kendal. Touching on more bias, I love this little guy. Many a time I've gone to visit my three grands, and first thing I know he's up in my lap, content to put up with this old man. He's Roomba quick to reply "love you too." One day, long after I'm dead and gone, he will probably hate me for this - but he looks like the cutest damn turtle you ever did see, cept it's a smiling turtle! (OK Victor, enough doting,,, right you are, sorry.)
So....... when the cold of winter was finally behind us... when the April showers had subsided enough I could finally put the top down on my car that finally goes 40+ mph, I picked up my grands from school one day.
Kendal had never been in a convertible. Aubrie, my 2nd grade granddaughter said she hadn't either, and I was relieved to hear that because when she was between one and two years old, I had a convertible then too - and I proudly strapped her into the backseat one day to Roomba around town and damn daddy if it didn't start raining, she started crying, it was a mess, and again, glad she forgot that.)
There was an even added pep in the step to Kendal that day. Jumping in the convertible revved that up even more. They raised their arms in exhilaration, opened their mouths and let the wind give them funny faces - it was fun.
Halfway home Aubrie announces "Kendal got Student of the Month." Sheepishly, I was amazed because he does/has spent an inordinate time in "the safe room." (Smart as a whip, I NEVER doubted his capability).. As I was pulling into their driveway, I extended my arm to the backseat for a high five - and as the smiling, cute little, temporarily missing a tooth, turtle Roomba'ed out of the car - he raised his fist and shouted to the world "BEST. DAY. EVER!"
Being the middle kid is tough. His older sister is an A student, and don't even get me started on the cuteness, incredibly positive attitude of his 2 year old sister. Oft times, the attention is, by natural course, elsewhere. It's hard to rein attention on a Roomba.
That day, it did.
Slow down, you move to fast,
Got to make the morning last,
Just kicking down the cobblestones,
Looking for fun and feeling groovy.
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy.
Love, a biased grandfather
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