Once Upon a Time

There once was a little boy and his little sister who went to the beach. The little boy brought all his beach toys, the shovels, the buckets, the molds, and even a dump truck to hall haul sand.

The little boy did not like the water. He went in only up to his ankles when he needed to fetch a bucket of water.

He loved using the shovels, digging and digging. And if it weren't for the water table, he would have dug clear through to China!

But by far, perhaps his favorite toy was the dump truck. (He took after his grandfather and uncle when it came to machinery.) He drove the dump truck all over the beach, weaving through rows of blankets laden with sun bathers and picnickers.

And even more so than his toys, he loved being with people, especially kids. So when this almost naked, bobby curls, little girl chased him like he was the next best thing to peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat, he ran even faster and squealed a little louder.

His little sister, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. She was drawn to water like peanut butter to jelly.

She regarded water with termerity.

She fought off the big kids to sit in the water filled hole her brother dug.

When she got cold, she didn't crawl underneath the blankets; she laid in the sun-bathed sand, relishing its warmth.

And when she saw the big girls bring out the their paddle boards, she wanted in on the action.

Very unlike her big brother, who sat only as far as the top edge of the hole he dug for her.

The End.


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The Difference of Two Years

Sheazie Bear and I have come a very long way. The first time he ever spent the day with me was -  I hate to admit it  - traumatic for him. (Click: My first "date" with Sheazie Bear) So much so that the next time we met two months later, he cried at the sight of me! Almost exactly two years later, he laughs and plays with me, and every now and then asks his mommy if he could talk with me on the telephone. See for yourself how two years transpired in a blink of an eye.

August 2010

He was so scared to let go of my hand, he didn't want to be abandoned again.

 August 2012

A very confident boy, sporting his Uncle 5-Star's hat.

August 2010

So forlorn, he just wanted to go home.

August 2012

He wants to come to my house, and he wants me to go home with him.

August 2010

He couldn't make it over the balance beam without help.

August 2012

"No, don't help me; I can do it!" he beams. (No pun intended.)

Perhaps the most significant difference in two years is the addition of this little girl, the apple of Uncle 5-Star's eye, my god daughter, the impatient, fearless, karate chopping in her sleep, recently constipated toothless wonder, Jaida Bug.

August 2012

Jaida Bug is exactly Sheazie Bear's age two years ago.

If there was one thing that has not changed, it's Sheazie Bear's propensity for zoning out when he goes No. 2.

August 2010

In the zone while going No. 2.

August 2012

Totally in The Zone!

I'm sad that Sheazie Bear moved to another state just when we got so warmed up to each other. On the other hand, I am filled with joy and pride when this patient, conservative, gentle, stinky poopy, snip of a little man greets me with such excitement and adoration on video conference calls. "Auntie Netty! Auntie Netty! Where's Preacher? Where's Uncle Scotty? Is Sonya's food upstairs or downstairs? Do you want to come to my house?"

Of course, Sheazie Bear! Abso-friggin'-lutely!

Ah, the difference of two years!

My Inner Child

Mayet and I saw a group of young men throwing themselves off a bridge into the river behind our hotel. It was a comfortable 90ºF outside, with not a cloud in the sky, and the air still as a lazy summer day. I suddenly declared "I am going to jump off that bridge before we leave this town!"

As I jogged across the same bridge the next morning, I slowed down to study the scene. The water barely trickled along, and was almost as clear as the crystal waters of the reefs in Micronesia. On my return pass across the bridge, I stopped to really take in the scene. Three things went through my mind as I gazed down the height of that bridge.

1. Man, that's a looooooong way down!
2. I know this water isn't warm like the
    water back home.
3. I'm concerned that I can see clearly down to
    the pebbles... rocks... boulders and logs at the
    bottom. This means it's shallow. I'll have to 
    canon-ball it, I planned. I don't want to 
    torpedo down to the rocks and logs on the 
    bottom.

But because I voiced my declaration to Mayet, I didn't have the cajones to back out now.

I stood on that ledge for three mercilessly long minutes. "Are you going to do it?" called Mayet from the bottom.

"Yes?" I whimpered. I tried to get a couple of walkers to join me, but they just gave me a you're-crazy look, and said "we don't want to get wet." Right! Chickens!

"Are you going to jump?" Mayet called again. Give me a break! I thought. You get up here and tell me how easy it would be for you!

How the heck do high divers do it?!

How the heck did those young men do it?! BRAZEN young men. They have youth in their favor, I thought.

"Okay!" I announced. "It's now or never!" And I willed myself to jump. I let go of the railing...

But find, immediately, that my other hand didn't let go of the railing.

"Oh, come on!" cried Mayet in exasperation. "Jump already!"

Mayet, smarting off at me?! Why I oughtta... Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

One-one-thousand,

Two-one-thousand,

Three-one-thousand,

BAM! That was the longest three seconds ever, and all I felt as I fell through the air was my guts being left behind on the bridge. And much to my surprise, as I kept going down, down, down, in the water I never touched bottom. It was deeper than it looked!

If there was an Olympic event that rewarded explosive splashes, I would have taken a medal for it!

But there is no such event, and I tell you why...

1) Because there wasn't anything graceful
    about it.
2) Because, in fact, it's a spectacle to laugh
    at, and not admire.
3) And because it friggin' hurt like a
    sonnavugun, and I have the bruises to
    prove it.

Besides, you don't get to be an Olympian with a belly like this one, which is why I've censored it for your own sanity, and for my self-conscience. For this same reason, I'm not showing you my bruises.

The water I jumped into is actually called Icicle Creek, for the very reason that it's ice cold all year long because it's fed by snow-melt. And in this little town, jumping off this bridge is a right of passage for all the kids. "My twelve-year-old granddaughter did it yesterday!" beamed the receptionist in the hotel lobby. Blah!

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A Belated Graduation Party

Mikey graduated in the middle of June, but the party came a month and a half later.

If you think there are plenty of teenagers at a graduation who think they know all there is to know already about life, think again. All the teenagers at a belated graduation party are no different. In fact, they think they're all the more grown up a mere month and a half later, and they give you a funny look if you so much as point the lens of your camera at them.

I gotta say though, there were two young men who were an exception. They actually came up to me to greet me and briefly share the events that have thus far transpired during their summer vacation. Other than these two young men, the "real" adults have no baring in these teenagers lives at the moment, and so I moved on to the adults' side of the party.

Meet Mikey's dad, the designated valet attendant, the most charming and gracious host of the party, Mr. M.

And then on to the little kids in the backyard, away from their teenage brothers, cousins, and parents.

And the bouncy house.

This little grey-eyed heart breaker played coy at first. He responded to our conversations with mere nods and shakes of his head as he chewed on ice cubes. And that dark, handsome fellow is Uncle Lukie. His inner child is never too shy to come out and play.

It wasn't long before Little Grey-eyed Heart Breaker started grunting to be put into the bouncy house.

 Oh, but he was just too little to fend for himself in the chaos of tumbling and jumping bigger kids.

If you I may be so bold as to compare: teenagers are like little kids. They can be ruthless and mindless of the "other" age groups. Regardless of graduation and belated graduation parties.  

And that's all I have to say about that! (Forest Gump.)


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The Difference of Three Years

Last week I took Jamesie Cat and Mattie to the beach and the circus. As I watched them play and interact with each other, I couldn't help remembering a very similar occasion more than three years ago. I took Mattie and Jamesie Cat for ice cream, and then to the beach. It was a cold spring afternoon.

Three years ago.

Last week.

 Three years ago.

 Last week.

Three years ago.

Last week.

Three years ago.

Last week.

 Three years ago.

Last week.

That same day three years ago, I took the boys to the Japanese Garden to feed the koi. But the fish didn't come out because it was still too cold. This year, because it was a hot summer afternoon, I took them to the Wenatchee Youth Circus, just up the street from the beach. 

We all had a grand old time!

Jamesie Cat has this habit of mimicking every sound and action you make. It can be quite annoying actually, so I just ignore him when he starts up. But, this habit of his came in quite handy when the National Anthem was sung at the circus. I put my hand over my heart and sang with passion. I need not elaborate further. Next time he's mimicking, I'll recite the Pledge of Allegiance!

 Last week.

 Three years ago.

Last week.

Three years ago.

 Last week.

Don't let this happy face fool you about how the day transpired. Two hours before this, Jamesie Cat threw a tissy fit as we were leaving the beach. He didn't want to leave. "So ask your mom to take you to the beach tomorrow," I suggested.

"I don't want to go tomorrow!" he answered.

"Next week... Next month... Next year..." I kept suggesting, to all of which Jamesie Cat answered "No!" and flung himself to the ground in rebellion.

Three years ago, Jamesie Cat had a binky in his mouth. Last week he declared to me "You're mean! I hate you! I wanna go home! I hate you!" Yes, he said he hated me twice.

Boy! The difference of three years!