It all Comes Back to me Now

Tehya, Paeton and Makenna are staying with us for part of this week (while their mom and dad are de-briefing in Ontario) giving us a taste of days gone by. I wake up with a prayer, kiss the sleeping cuties good morning, cook some porridge or put some waffles in the toaster, pack lunches and make sure their hair is combed before two of them head out the door to Papa's truck.

I’d venture to say that, because this is not the norm for me, there is a sense of adventure  in the air, aided by the fact that the kids really are trying to be at their best behaviour.  On the first morning, after getting dressed, our conscientious seven-year-old came down with his pjs nicely folded, asking where he should put them . . . like, what is the routine here? Gotta love him.

The back entrance sports a pile of jackets and backpacks always ready, along with the musty smell of damp boots. Beds may or may not be made.  Blankets, cushions and all sorts of things have been strategically laid out on the floor, forming some sort of “safe” path that I am told not to destroy so that they can continue playing rocks and lava later.

While the students spend their day at school, I’m entertained by a running commentary from the view of an (almost) four-year-old.  She likes the smell of yeast dough, likewise, the smell of hairspray and she wonders why I’m putting lipstick on again. She reminds me of snack time and quiet time, during which I’m given privy to an audible expression of the picture she is drawing. What I love the most, are her facial expressions that accompany what she says. So dramatic! Do those who have seen her every day of her life notice?

The oldest two take their own baths, eat well and offer some interesting conversations and laughter about riddles printed on the cereal box, snake stories, thoughts of getting older (who would have thought?) and thoughts on how things work . . . while the youngest one tries to keep up with her own interpretation of what is discussed. It should totally make sense that islands become lions in her mind, should it not?

It was after a day of this familiar, yet unfamiliar, routine to me, as I was tidying up the bathroom and the kids were almost ready for bed, that one of them heard an involuntary sigh escape my breath. I thought it was quiet, but she turned to me and looked me square in the face asking,  

“Grammy, are you learning how to deal with kids?”

My perceptive girl, she is . . . honest and facing the truth straight on. I sure do love her!

 Yes, Tehya . . . I’m learning . . .  again.