Diane Stringam Tolley's Blog: On the Border, page 15

Paying Up at the Library

Peter, Sally, Mort and I were on our way to the library.

Okay, it was wasn’t our first choice.

The afternoon had started out with a peaceful game of croquet in our back yard.

But with one thing and another—okay, I admit it. Sally and Mort really don’t know how to play croquet properly. “Decimate thine opponent” really isn’t an approved rule. Or an option.

But it is their favourite move, consisting, as it does of one person hitting their ball close to their opponent’s ball and then calling “FORE!” and smacking that unfortunate sucker into orbit.

Between the four of us, we saw a lot of orbits in that game.

And we didn’t even get to finish.

Because one of Sally’s more spectacular shots put Peter’s shiny blue ball right through the kitchen window.

You know, the window that Sally took out whilst trying to flip an omelet on the fateful day that Peter and I met?

Yeah.

That window.

Anyways, as fate would have it, Mom and Baby Ivy were in said kitchen when said window exploded.

Oops.

Thus our expulsion, not only from the game, but from the immediate vicinity.

Don’t underestimate the power of a ticked-off Mama.

And, because I had a library fine to pay that I had been avoiding all week, we decided that the time had come to do it. I was actually pleased to have the company. There is safety in numbers. Supposedly.

During the walk, I was reciting what I would say to the girlbehindthedesk when we got there. “Hi! I’m Gwen Hart. I need to pay a fine.” Or “Hi, I’m Gwen Hart. I need to pay a fee.”

I had discussed, in depth, which covered it and sounded more cultured and sophisticated, ‘fine’ or ‘fee’.

But my wretched non-helpers were divided.

Thus my continuing vacillation.

“I need to pay a fine.” Or “I need to pay a fee.”

And yes, this went on all the way to the library.

Ahem…

When we got there, I took a deep breath, pulled open the imposing and rather intimidating front door and, my steps lagging, made my way to the front desk.

I don’t know why this sort of thing bugs me. I mean, isn’t paying a fine for having returned a book late just the price of the whole library experience?

Let’s simply agree it does and move on, shall we?

The girlbehindthedesk watched me as I approached. No smile.

Ugh. This was going to be just as difficult as I had imagined.

I moved up to the counter and took another deep, sustaining breath.

I looked her in the eye and said (I am not making this up), “I have to pee.”

Both of us stared at each other for a heartbeat or two.

Then, I just laid a dollar on the counter and the four of us left.

Even Sally couldn’t have topped that.

Today’s post is a writing challenge. Participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post with the understanding that all words be used at least once. All the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

Today, I’m using: price ~ approve ~ call ~ cover ~ fine

They were supplied by my patient and wonderful friend, Karen at Baking in a Tornado! Thank you!!!

Now see what my friends have created for this challenge with their words!

Baking In A Tornado

Climaxed

For Rena

 This is for Rena, my wonderful,wonderful, wise friend, co-conspirator and staunch supporter. I’ll miss youforever, dear sister!

 

When we holiday, weusually like to rent a house with several bedrooms and have our friends join usas they can.Usually, it hasworked out great!Ocassionally, ithasn’t.Our trip toGuadalupe in 2020 was…less than perfect.Lost luggage for sixpeople.No bathroom for a householdof 8.No hot water.No oven.Ongoing renovations from window installations to full-sized backhoes digging up the driveway and front yard.Let’s just say thefirst two weeks were a disaster and stop there.Here is what welearned… Holidaying always looks great.Relaxing and perfect.When one is anticipating.Let’s just say it’s not always so goodwhen one is experiencing.And just FYI: B&B photos aren’talways accurate. Ditto for reviews.Always remember to pack essentials inyour little carry-on. You never know where your luggage will vacation. Oftenit’s not going where you’re going.When renting a car, make sure it’s notto a company waiting to pick you up on Martinique. When you’re on Guadeloupe.There’s a fair slice of ocean between them.When your Landlady promises every dayfor twenty days that you will have wifi... tomorrow, it’s really okay to beginto NOT believe her.You don’t have to stay home from yourday at the beach to let workmen in. They aren’t going to show up anyway. Actuallythat’s not quite true. They will showup. Right at suppertime. And stay till midnight.The noisier the tools—the later theystay.One working toilet for eight people inthe corner of one of the bedrooms can suffice. It just takes a LOT ofcooperation.A brand new bathroom (and toilet)following a week of noise and confusion and workmen at all times is definitelyworth it. We think. One other important thing, though, isa door on that new bathroom. People get skittish when whatever they are doingis public knowledge.Just because supposedly competentworkmen have been properly engaged, it doesn’t follow that said workmen willinstall the new windows in the right holes.One can do without hot water in thekitchen. As long as there is plenty of it in the one working bathroom. And onehas at least one big bucket. True story.You can think of a million and onedishes you want to make in the oven—when you don’t have one that works. Oh, andremember to watch out for the exposed wires that are the reason said oven doesn’twork. They can really pack a wallop.Just because a toaster istop-of-the-line, it doesn’t follow that it will actually…toast.Always keep a thick, absorbent mat onthe floor in front of all the sinks. So the water will have someplace to go.The Landlady’s idea of a beautifulswimming pool—and yours—are probably poles apart. Nine feet of mud isn’t ninefeet of water. And back-hoes working on some remote building site arefascinating. Back-hoes in your front yard, digging away your driveway and your onlyaccess to your B&B are not. Buying tools and effecting repairsyourself is totally acceptable. And may save your precious sanity. Just don’texpect a reduction in the rent.When a foreman says he will come backand build you a front step, believe him. A pallet can be a front step.Sometimes desperate tourists are thepopular fathers of invention. Walkways made out of pilfered shipping crateswill be appreciated by the whole neighbourhood!It’s quite all right for your washerto discharge down the outer house wall. It’s also fine to use it as a shower.And finally…Just because a baguette is warm, itdoesn’t follow that it’s fresh. OR ant-free. Please be careful when choosingyour boulangerie! Rena, we survived that holiday. Infact, the last six weeks of it were bliss.Or perhaps our standards had just lowered.Thank you for this prompt, my friend. And for the gift of...you!I miss you.Diane
This tribute to Rena is part of a “Secret Subject Swap”. Something Rena loved to participate in. My secret Subject was: What is one vacation that you took that was a total disaster? Whatwent wrong?Thiswas Rena’s May prompt.
Please read on to see the rest of the participants!BakingIn ATornadoClimaxedWhatTFSarahPart-timeWorking HockeyMom

Seeing the Specialist

 I needed an appointment,My head just wasn’t fine,And so I called the doctor,They scheduled me for nine. I went down to their building,So far it all went well,I walked into the office,And rang the little bell. The girl behind the counter,She asked me who I was,So I spelled out my name for her,There was a little pause… I told her I had problems,Discomfort, bad, was mine,She nodded, said, “Which doctor?”I said ‘normal’ doc was fine.
Today is our Monthly Poetry Challenge.Our topic? Making an AppointmentI love this!Now go and see what my friends have created!Karen at Baking in a TornadoMimi of Messymimismeanderings

Letting Down One's Hair

 Okay…I knew cravings could be…inconvenient.I never knew they could belife-changing. Story-worthy.Downright strange.Maybe I should back up a little.Ahem…A king and queen had been childlessfor many long years. Something that wore away at the queen rather drastically. One day, whilst out and about doing…queenlystuff, she came across a rather strange old woman who offered to ‘tell herfortune’. Or something to that effect.The queen agreed.Not because she placed all thatmuch belief in the whole ‘fortune’ scenario. But because she was a kindly personand could see the old woman needed both a vocation.And some money.Not surprisingly, theprognostication pronounced upon the queen took a bit of a turn.Yes, she was promised ‘That whichshe most desired’. But also that she would experiencesome distinctly powerful cravings.The queen was both elated…and alittle…erm…dismayed.I mean things like pickles and icecream, okay.But let’s not stray into the whole chalkand dirt fiasco.Like a friend did.Moving on… A few months later, the queen foundshe was, indeed, pregnant.Between bouts drifting from elationstraight through to nausea, the queen began to crave something.Something green and tasty.And that only grew in the (hereinafterknown as Gothel the Sorceress) neighbour’s garden. Now, normally, this wasn’tconcerning. I mean a quick knock on the door. A smile and a ‘would you mind…?’But Gothel was one of those neighbours. The nasty ones youhope aren’t out on the street while you’re climbing into your car. You have to know, the king did try.He sent servants with entreaties, reasonings and finally, gifts to attempt tosecure the neighbour’s cooperation.But they didn’t make a dent. Let’sface it, this woman was hard as glass all the way through. So the king resorted to theft. Andbecause he couldn’t place any of his beloved subjects on the wrong side of thelaw, he went himself.Of course, during one of hisforays, he was caught.Of course there was a hefty penalty. Somewhere between six and ninemonths later, the neighbour appeared to claim her tearfully agreed-upon prize.The newborn baby girl.Soulful pleadings did nothing tosway her. Not even one iota.I had a neighbour like that once.We moved.Because…yikes. For years, the little girl lived ina tower located on one of Gothel’s remote properties. The only entry was byclimbing the girl’s once short, now long and lovely locks.Which Gothel did.And my girls cry when I brush their hair… Now we get to the exciting part.A prince, out and exploring,happened upon Gothel climbing the ‘all-natural-and-no-animals-were-harmed-in-creating-this’ladder.It tweaked his curiosity.A glimpse of the lovely face distantlyattached to that hair tweaked something even more.The prince began to hang around. Finally, he overheard Gothel utterthe magic words, “Rapunzel, let down your golden hair” prior to that long, goldenbraid granting entry.And he thought he’d give it a try.No sooner said than done.And he and Rapunzel were face toface. Things went surprisingly well, and,after a few visits, she was more than ready to follow him anywhere.I mean, he was quite literally theonly guy she had ever known.Literally.Only.Of course he looked perfect.She was easy to convince. Then, that slip of the tongue socommon to fairy tales.One day Rapunzel, in her girlishinnocence, asked Gothel why she was way easier to haul up than the prince.Of course there was surprise.Remonstrations.And consequences.The end result was Rapunzel, shornand fairly helpless, and banished to a far wilderness. Gothel hung the newly-shorn hairfrom a hook and, a day or so later, when the prince requested his ‘hair’way toparadise (snort), she obliged.I’m not really privy to whathappened interim-ly, but mere moments later, the prince expeditiously exitedthe window. He landed in some rose bushesplanted conveniently at the base of the tower that (1) Broke his fall, but (2) Damagedhis eyes.Blinded, the prince began a helplesswander of the countryside.Said wander took him, finally, to hisbeloved Rapunzel. Rapunzel bathed him, bothfiguratively and quite literally, with her tears.And when said tears touched hiseyes, his sight was restored.What is it about fairy tales andtears?I think there is a case for medicalresearch to be made.Right? The prince, sight restored, was finallyable to find his way back to his kingdom. Whereupon the oft-postponed marriagebetween he and Rapunzel could take place.I’m assuming a tearful reunion withRapunzel’s parents.And an apropos shutting of Gothelin a tower. And everyone—with the exception ofGothel—lived happily ever after.Now what do we learn from thisrather hair-y tale?Don’t steal—even a king is subjectto his own laws.And never allow cravings to dictateyour actions. They are poor decision-makers.
Today’s post is a word challenge! Each month one of us chooses a number between 12 and 50 and the rest craft a post using that number of words one or multiple times.
This month’s number is: 43It was chosen by me!



Now go and see what my friends have created!Baking In ATornadoMessymimi’sMeanderings

Finishing the Laundry

 “My turn to do laundry!”I sat up in bed. You have to knowthat, immediately upon waking, I am seldom coherent.And yes, that condition flees prettyfast (out of necessity).Because, you know…Sally.This time, as my mind began toclear, I frowned.Had I really seen her face at thedoor? Heard the barked-out words? The closing of said door?Because, if I had, we were introuble.Ahem…Sally really doesn’t do many of thechores around the house.It is her house. And the rest of uswho live there rent-free are generally happy to do them.Mom has just carried on with her ‘mom’stuff—albeit with a little less stress because the bills are all paid and shehas Dad, the former Uncle Pete.I happily do things that requirethe use of any sort of machinery because it has always satisfied something inme to…you know…do them.Sally has simply spun in themiddle.Oh, she has tried to help. She’swilling and eager.She is also accident-prone andknown for her snap—let’s call them interesting—decisions.After which, someone, usually aprofessional, tidies up.So…today and back to that voice atmy door.It could have been part of thedream I was having.Or it could have been real.Either way, it would still be anightmare.I sighed and threw back the covers.I climbed out of bed and dressedhurriedly. Then opened my door and poked my nose out into the hall.At first, it was happily deserted. ThenSally appeared at the entrance to the kitchen, laundry basket in her hands. “Gwen!Come on! Mort and I are waiting to start!”I think I know why she had suddenly become interested in doing everyone’s laundry.Sally has an inventor friend who is working on a new incarnation of a washer and drier combination. You know—the one machine to rule them all.And he has given a prototype to Sally to try out...I sighed and went back into my roomto get my hamper and we hauled everything downstairs.Now you have to know it’s not thatshe plans any of this. Or deliberately sets out to destroy.It just…happens.The first few loads wentsurprisingly well.Baby stuff into the machine first.Then into the basket for Mort and Ito start folding as the first load of whites was shoved inside.Then a load of colourful clothes was inserted.I stayed on the periphery. WithMort.Folding and keeping my head down.Because who knows when ‘something’is going to happen?This went on for much of the day.The first, second, third and even fourthloads had been washed, dried, and folded. And, I have to admit it, the machinewas doing a great job!A load of towels was cheerfullytumbling, nearly at the end of the drier cycle.And that’s when it happened.Can’t you just hear the tight ‘Eee!Eee! Eee!’ of the orchestral strings?There was a muffled thump, followedby a thick ‘click’ and what sounded like metalscreeching against metal.And then the door of the drier blewoff.I am not making this up.It blew off.Landed across the room, like, 20feet away.I was supremely glad that no one(ie. me) was standing in the way of it. I think it could have done some realdamage.A tongue of flame licked out of thetub.I think I screamed.I know someone did.And then Sally flew in, fireextinguisher in hand and, with a flick or two, put out the few flames beforethey did much more than singe a couple of towels.Say what you will about Sally, sheusually gets herself out of difficulties even faster than she got in. And usually, while the rest of us are just starting to react.Then she pulled the electrical plugout of the wall and looked at me. “I’ll have to tell Daniel there are a few kinksto work out,” she said, grinning.I should say.Mort, ever the posterior backup, was busy talking to someone at ‘911’.A mere moment later we were hearing the sounds of sirens.When Mom and Dad and Ivy Jeanpulled up that evening, it was to see Sally, Mort, Peter and I seated on thefront lawn, hemmed on one side by leafy bushes.And on the other by firefighters. We were watching them roll-up hoses and chat happily about ‘doing safetychecks’ and ‘another successful mission’.Mom, clutching the baby, juststared at the house, her colour fading. “What hap-pend?” She managed at last.I glanced over at the firefightersand shrugged. “Ummm…Sally did the laundry?” Isaid.Mom gasped and leaned back againstthe arm that appeared around her shoulders. Dad patted her shoulder with hisother hand and she smiled up at him and took a deep, sustaining breath.“The good news is: the laundry’sdone!” Sally said brightly.I looked at her. Then at Mom. “So’sthe drier,” I added.
Today’s post is a writing challenge. Participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post with the understanding that all words be used at least once. All the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.Today, I’m using: everything ~ laundry ~ safety ~ click ~ posterior ~ leafySubmitted by, Jenniy at https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com 
Thank you, my friend!
Now check out my fellow bloggers! BakingIn A Tornado Climaxed        

Answering the Call of Nature

Our Steed. I'll explain . . .Our oldest daughter believed that there was something called the 'Universal Animal Call'.
It was a simple whistle. A single note rising in pitch at the end.
Tweee-eet!
She swore it worked on all animals.
We thought the idea was hilarious.
Enough background.
My husband, for our 25th anniversary, surprised me with a trip to Greece.
And a cruise around the Mediterranean on a tall ship.
My dream of a lifetime.
And the vacation of a lifetime.
Ten days of unbelievable bliss.
I probably don't have to mention, here, that I enjoyed it.
But I will anyway.
I enjoyed it.
Immensely.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . .
What? Where was I?
Oh, yes.
Greece.
Mediterranean.
During the cruise, we discovered the joy of laying in the nets beneath the spritsail at the bow of the ship, watching the Mediterranean slip past far beneath us.
It was the most relaxing experience of my life.
On the second last evening of our cruise, we introduced several new friends to this delicious experience.
Let me describe the scene . . .
The sun was setting, glowing orange and red on the clots of cloud floating far above us in the darkening sky. There was just enough breeze to fill every rosy sail and push us forward through gentle, perfect waves on impossibly blue water.
The air was a caress. Soft. Fragrant.
The only sounds were the occasional call of the sea birds as they floated on still wings alongside us.
Rocked gently, we hovered at the edges of complete peace.
Conversation lagged as, one by one, the members of our party flirted with the idea of succumbing to the call of Morpheus.
Drowsily, I turned to my husband and said, "What a perfect evening."
He laughed. "No, we need one more thing to make it truly perfect."
"What is that?"
"Dolphins."
He was right. The last perfect touch would be dolphins, chittering and giggling as they leaped and played in the water beside us.
"We could always try the Universal Animal Call."
We explained the UAC to our new friends, and joined in their laughter.
Then I sat up.
And whistled.
Tweee-eet! Tweee-eet!
And we laughed again.
Silence settled over us once more.
Silence broken, suddenly, by . . . chittering and giggling.
We looked down.
Several dolphins were leaping and playing alongside us.
I blinked and stared, open-mouthed.
Then rubbed my eyes and stared again.
Yes. There really were dolphins.
And yes, they really were playing beside the ship.
My husband and I looked at each other.
And laughed.
Happily, this time.
Maybe the UAC actually worked.
Or maybe it was just an amazing coincidence.
But it made the evening truly perfect.
And I'll never, ever forget it.The reason I’m telling you all this is because we are leaving our home and puppy in the charge of our daughter and her family and faring once again into ‘tourist land’. 
We will again be on a tall ship.
And I’m so excited!
Tomorrow’s post is already set, so this is my last post before landing in Malta.
I’ll message you from there!Wish us luck!

Windy

See?
Picture: www.wallpaperfo.comThe wind blows in Southern Alberta.

A lot.

And usually from the west.

Invariably, it’s hot and dry in summer.

But in winter, you get a selection. Either it’s cold and penetrating; or warm and very, very melty (my word).

This second wind, known as a Chinook, comes in from the west without warning, forming a great arch in the overhead cloud cover and raising the temperature forty degrees in an hour.

The people who make Southern Alberta their home have learned to live with the wind.

What else can you do?

The kids adapt at a very early age.

Case in point . . .

I was five and in grade one. That magical time when everything is . . . magical.

It was winter.

A warm Chinook had blown in during morning classes.

And we had been sent outside for recess.

Not an unusual combination of events.

We ran about the playground, moving with the wind, or trying to make headway against it.

Or huddling close to the school when we had had enough.

And that was when it happened.

And it was Kathy who did it.

Now, I will admit that Kathy was a slender little stick of a kid.

Wiry and athletic and just a tad daring.

But still, her action was life-changing.

She stood out in the wind, unzipped her coat, held the sides out and . . . leaned over.

And the wind held her there!

I am not making this up.

It held her there. At an angle.

Like a kite.

Ooooooooh!

The rest of us had to try it.

We had more or less success.

For some of the heavier kids, the wind wasn’t – quite – strong enough.

For the smaller, a little too strong. It could actually lift them off their feet or roll them over backward.

But for those of us somewhere in the middle, it was remarkable.

You almost felt as though you were flying!

After that, no one zipped their coats shut during a Chinook.

Instead, you used said coats – and that wind – to blow yourself wherever you wanted to go.

Extraordinary!

And world-altering!

I could see Kathy’s invention of cloth and wind being used for amazing things.

Like . . . pushing great vehicles.

Oddly enough, when I told my parents, they were less than enthusiastic.

And not at all willing to take me and Kathy’s invention immediately to the patent office.

Parents.

Pfff.

Moving forward . . .The decades have gone by.

And still, whenever the wind blows, I think of Kathy.

And her coat.

And that clever mind that made such entertaining use of something that could have been so aggravating.

Sometimes, you can still catch me out in it.

The wind, I mean.

Holding my coat open against it.And remembering . . . 

The ‘Off‘ in Stroganoff

Now wouldn't you love to invite them over to dinner?I know you've all had one.Some of you might have had several.You never forget them, no matter how hard you try . . .I’m taking about dinner parties.My husband and I were hosting our very first, ever.We were starting small.People we thought would be forgiving if things didn't go perfectly.Okay, it was a few of my former college buddies.Fellow journalists.I probably should have given it more thought . . .Things were going well.They had exclaimed loudly and satisfactorily over our new addition, a cute little Old English Sheepdog puppy named Skaya.And greeted Skaya's companion and chewing toy, two-year-old Muffy. Another OES.Who, by the by, couldn't understand what any of us saw in this small, annoying ball of fuzz.We had served them their before-dinner drinks of chilled ginger ale.We’re talking high-class here.We chatted. That's a classy term for 'gabbed like crows'. Because we're classy.Ahem . . .Dinner was ready.They took their places while I proudly carried in the tureen (a classy term for 'bowl' because we were being . . . I'll move on) of Beef Stroganoff.Yes.Really.I made Beef Stroganoff.Me, who can't even spell Beef Stroganoff.Talk ceased as all eyes were on me.It was my proudest moment.And, just like that, it was over.The side of the stupid bowl (okay, classy had definitely flown out the window) broke right out and the entire contents of hot deliciousness landed, unceremoniously, in the nearest girl's lap.Did I mention hot?Did I mention lap?There was a breathless gasp of dismay.And my friend was on her feet, scraping frenziedly at the formerly delicious-looking, now distinctly icky, main course.But, sadly, the story doesn't end there.While my husby and I were frantically trying to clean up our sticky and uncomfortable guest, our  puppy, Skaya, was making quick work of everything that had hit the floor.She was efficient.And thorough.We ignored her, foolishly thinking that we were taking care of the greater problem.We were so wrong.Skaya, having cleaned up the floor crawled under the table and proceeded to . . . umm . . . regurgitate everything she had just managed to swallow.Placing it, quite effectively, on everyone else's shoes.Something, I might mention, that wasn't lost on the aforementioned everyone else.There was a mad scramble as people leaped to their feet in a vain attempt to avoid the . . . erm . . . mess.My Husby grabbed the little pup's collar and dragged her towards the door.Now, I should point out, here, that Skaya, when frightened, always performed what we later termed the 'submarine manoeuvre'.Blow all tanks.She left a (for want of a better term) 'trail' all the way across the floor and out the door.For just a moment, there was silence in the dining room.Picture the scene:Beef Stroganoff, in its many incarnations, everywhere.Guests liberally bedaubed.Ichor in a glorious trail on top of everything else.It wasn't a pretty sight.Or appetizing.Needless to say, most of the guests turned down our offer of 'something else to eat?'.And left soon after.Never to return.But we learned.Now, when we invite people over, they are invariably handed a long, twisted wire and a hot dog and told to 'crowd into the fire and git started'.It saves on mess.And embarrassment.And the dog is in its proper place.

Golf Hazards

Daddy loved telling this one...
Our Gary, well, he loved his golf, much more than I can say,He’d waited for this tee time. It was such a perfect day! And, with hisfriends, enjoyed the game. Was really doing fine,It seemed that, on this day, the planets truly had aligned,The four of them were teeing off there on the seventh hole,Just where the public road, around the busy golf course scrolls,T’was at that moment that a funeral cavalcade went by,Then Gary dropped his club and doffed his hat and closed hiseyes,He stayed like that the whole time as the convoy woundaround,His friends just stood and waited, didn’t make a singlesound,Then, when the cars had gone, and peace had once more been restored,They looked at Gary. One said, “Man, you surely had me floored!I am impressed with your respect and taking time to paySo much esteem to that poor soul and showing it that way!”Ol' Gary shrugged, put on his hat and grabbed himself abeer,“Well, what the hay,” he said. “We two were married fortyyears!”
Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So  Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?

Next week, there will be outs and insas we're discussing Safety Pins!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)...Golf (April 10) Today!Safety Pins (April 17)Pigs in Blankets (April 24)Rhinos (May 1)Socks (May 8)Chocolate Chip (May 15)Musical Instruments (May 22)Compost (May 29)

 

 

 

Toddler Do

Who says the younger generation isn’t paying attention . . .?

My good friend, Jen, was having one of her ‘normal’ days.

Housework.

Kids in school.

Kids at home.

She came upstairs from the laundry room.

To hear someone in the front room.

Talking.

Now you have to know that Toddler Girl wasn’t yet making real words.

And the baby was rosily asleep in his crib.

Who could possibly be talking?

She dashed around the corner of the front room and skidded to a stop.

Huh.

Toddler Girl had a baby doll wrapped up and tucked into the crook of one arm.

In her free hand, she held a toy telephone.

She was walking back and forth across the room bouncing her doll up and down in the approved ‘pacifying-the-baby’ manoeuver.

But it was what she was doing with the phone that really caught Jen’s attention.

She held it to her ear, babbled animatedly for a few seconds (with no recognizable words) and threw her head back and laughed out loud.

Then, as Jen watched, she repeated the whole exercise. Walk about jiggling the baby. Talk animatedly. Laugh uproariously.

Hmmm . . . I wonder where she picked that up?

They are watching.

And taking note.

I guess talking enthusiastically and laughing while taking care of the baby is a good thing for them to see.

And emulate.

Unlike my kids who caught me eating peanut butter out of the jar.

With a spoon.

And forever after . . .

Well. Enough said.