Coffee or Kibble?
As most holidays with my family go, Mother's day was quite entertaining. After a morning of breakfast at the local greasy spoon and some light errands, Andy the boys and I made our way home to await our guest of honor; my mom. Just before they were due to arrive, I received a call from mom indicating that they had picked up my great grandmother Marshall (who will be celebrating her 90th birthday in less than a month). Andy immediately panicked and openly admitted to his anxiety about having her. I put on a brazen front and shamed him for thinking so coldly...but inside I was hearing the Psycho theme song.
Grandma Hazel, while slowed by age, has always terrified me. Sure, the natural bonds of kinship are evident and I always felt comfort while at her home eating stuffed pork chops and homemade applesauce. But don't let the banana bread baking in the oven fool you - Hazel Marshall is not your typical 'sweet little old lady'. She can darn your socks and swear like a sailor without thinking twice about it. Sad as it is, her hearing and mind are at the ends of their respective journeys. By the time you've shouted a pleasantry two or three times so she can hear you, she's forgotten who the 'hell' you are.
They arrived and helped granny up the sidewalk sturdied by her cane (which still donned the contraversial ice pick on the bottom)...(in MAY I might add.) Into the sunroom she went where she would be able to see the action around her. Little Max took to her right away, and she to him. "Here kitty kitty kitty; good kitty!" I opened my mouth in an effort to clarify that Max is a dog, but mom shot me the "just let it go" look.
Granny was eventually settled and the boys finally succeeded in pulling my rather hesitant mother outside with the others. There we were. Me and granny. Gulp. I can do this.
Max came to my rescue by seeking all of her attention. Being as they were having so much fun together, I grabbed a small handful of doggie treats for granny to feed him with. (I can do this!) I looked out the window and gave my mom a confident wave. When I returned my attention to granny, she was happily sipping her coffee and munching on a milk bone.
The art of being subtle is...let's say 'difficult' for me to grasp... I bolted out of my chair with stumbling speed, and thrust my cupped hands under her chin yelling for her to "spit out the tummy yummy!" This wonderful display of drama took granny by suprise, and for the first time ever, SHE was scared of ME.
When the color returned to my face, I was sure I could hear the heavens boom with the resounding laughs of my own grandmother who watched this display from above. "Atta girl!" She would have said, "Atta girl!"
Grandma Hazel, while slowed by age, has always terrified me. Sure, the natural bonds of kinship are evident and I always felt comfort while at her home eating stuffed pork chops and homemade applesauce. But don't let the banana bread baking in the oven fool you - Hazel Marshall is not your typical 'sweet little old lady'. She can darn your socks and swear like a sailor without thinking twice about it. Sad as it is, her hearing and mind are at the ends of their respective journeys. By the time you've shouted a pleasantry two or three times so she can hear you, she's forgotten who the 'hell' you are.
They arrived and helped granny up the sidewalk sturdied by her cane (which still donned the contraversial ice pick on the bottom)...(in MAY I might add.) Into the sunroom she went where she would be able to see the action around her. Little Max took to her right away, and she to him. "Here kitty kitty kitty; good kitty!" I opened my mouth in an effort to clarify that Max is a dog, but mom shot me the "just let it go" look.
Granny was eventually settled and the boys finally succeeded in pulling my rather hesitant mother outside with the others. There we were. Me and granny. Gulp. I can do this.
Max came to my rescue by seeking all of her attention. Being as they were having so much fun together, I grabbed a small handful of doggie treats for granny to feed him with. (I can do this!) I looked out the window and gave my mom a confident wave. When I returned my attention to granny, she was happily sipping her coffee and munching on a milk bone.
The art of being subtle is...let's say 'difficult' for me to grasp... I bolted out of my chair with stumbling speed, and thrust my cupped hands under her chin yelling for her to "spit out the tummy yummy!" This wonderful display of drama took granny by suprise, and for the first time ever, SHE was scared of ME.
When the color returned to my face, I was sure I could hear the heavens boom with the resounding laughs of my own grandmother who watched this display from above. "Atta girl!" She would have said, "Atta girl!"
posted by Felecia at Monday, May 09, 2005
3 Comments:
Atta Girl, Fleash!
and I don't think a little kibble ever hurt anyone. :o)
It's funny how life has a way of coming full circle. I'm sure many a mother has had to instruct their young child to spit out the "dog's" food too!
I have to tell Noah to spit out the dog's food at least every other day!
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