JavaJennifer

Spilling the Beans

Pretending to be a grownup

The dogs, two honey colored Labrador Retrievers eye me with practiced skepticism.  They know I don’t know what I’m doing and that their role in the family which has steadily decreased in importance since the birth of one then another and still a third child is, for the next 48 hours, pivotal.  They swagger about my calves and grin even with eyes clouded by cataracts: they know these kids better than I do.

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I’ve known Annapolis and her husband since 1997 forming a bond when during a dusty walk on a Florida road we shouldn’t have been walking on, she told me that she was pregnant with her first, a daughter whose 5th grade graduation is on Wednesday.  Two years later a second daughter was born and even though she’s now 8 years old, I still remember when we called her “a teeny tiny baby”.  Predictably, two years after that, a son was born.  I know him least as his birth and toddler years took place during my starter marriage and subsequent divorce and I was too busy trying to get up out of bed every morning to remember details like a first tooth or a birthday.

Annapolis and her husband are both at quarterly sales meetings for their respective companies and as I am unemployed, I was happy to extend an offer to stay with the 3 kids for what amounts to less than 48 hours.  It seemed easy enough- and does still as I write this.  But as I negotiated the mini-van (!!) away from curb-side departure at BWI with the two youngest ones buckled in back, I realized the enormity of being trusting with someone else’s kids.

Hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel, driving the speed limit, adusting the volume on Disc 2 of Bruce Springsteen while an 8 and 6 year old ask me to guess the name of an animal that starts with “W”.

“Walrus”? I guess

“Walloby”?

“Wall-Eyed Salmon”? (Is that even an animal??)

“No!” she exclaimed, her feet kicking the back of the passenger seat.  ” Do you give up?” she asked

“Yes” I said “I give up”

“White Tiger”! she giggled, glad to have stumped me.

And here folks, was my error.  I tried to explain how in this game, “White Tiger” shouldn’t count.  That “T” can stand for “Tiger”, but that “W” can’t stand for “White”.  I catch her expression in the rearview mirror about a half a second before I realize my mistake.  I back peddal.

“Can you explain the rules again? I guess I don’t get it”.  Happy to oblige, she offered up “I’m thinking of an animal that starts with the letter ‘B’”.

“Bear”? I guess.

“Bee”?

“Nope” she says.  “Give up?”

“Yes…”

“Blue Fish”.

I did not do well in this game.

Once back at the house, even the task of fixing pasta with sauce seems daunting and I text Annapolis to find out where the wine is.  That’s when the dogs walk into the kitchen… just as I’m uncorking a 2 litre bottle of Pino Griggio. “I’m on to you”, they say.

Dinner is uneventful.  These are good kids.  I’m sure most parents think their kids are good but these three kids prefer books over television, say ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’ to one another and are equal measures sunny and squirely.  I am touched when the oldest pours cups of milk for her younger brother and sister and carries them to the table without being asked.  I am dumbfounded when much laterI find the middle child painting her fingernails at 9:30pm.

I find her in the bathroom.

“What are you doing”? I ask

“I have to wash my hands” she says, not making eye contact.

“Did you just paint your fingernails”? I ask, eyeing the purple glitter.

She shrugs her shoulders and flashes me a 10,000 watt smile.

I send her back to bed for like, I don’t know, the 4th or 5th time with the threat of a revolked privledge if she doesn’t stay in bed.  But it’s too late.  Like a substitute teacher, she knows I have limited jurisdiction and happily wiggles between her stuffed animals and books but not before remiding me that I need to come back into her room at 11pm to turn off her light.

I back out of her room and into the room where I’m sleeping. The dogs have taken thier sentry positions on the floor at the foot of the bed and just then I know that the precious cargo in my care will be just fine.


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javajennifer

Comments

2 Responses to “Pretending to be a grownup”

  1. False Auntie says:

    Sweet post, JJ. So glad to see you writing again. Your public misses you!!

  2. Mom says:

    Amen.

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