Inquiring Minds

First sleepover (age 3) ~ “Oma, do you wear jammies? 
“Not always, but for you, I’ll wear jammies.”
As we get tucked into bed, I give him a goodnight peck on the cheek. He side-eyes the leopard print pajamas my friend Kay Grether gave me and says, “Nice jammies!”
“Thank you, Satchel. I love you,” I whisper as I turn off the light.
“I love you too, Oma,” he whispers back. “And thanks for wearing them. Good night.”
“Good night, Satchel.”
2006

A story from Busha ~ (his maternal grandmother): “Found this old photo, and remember this sweet moment. Satchel kneeling on my bathroom floor where he is deep in conversation with a spider on the wall. Speaking in a high, quiet voice, he murmurs “Hiiii. Is your name Charlotte?”

Not long after, Satch and I saw Charlotte’s Web at the theater. As we’re in line to get tickets he informs me, “She dies at the end you know.”
I say, “No, I didn’t know that. Thanks for sharing.”
He notes the look on my face and tries to reel back his spoiler alert. I told him it was okay, I could take it. I still cried at the end.
2007

Bat Wings ~ “Oma, why does the skin hang down on your arm like that?”
“What!”
“Why does the skin hang down on your arm like that?”
My grandson is commenting on my underarms from his car seat in the back as we’re driving down East Napa Street. I’m trying to fathom why a four-year-old boy would notice such a thing in the first place, much less comment on it.
“I heard you the first time,” I retorted. “I’m getting older, and not in shape like I once was.”
“Exercise would take care of that, you know,” he informs me.
“WHAT?!?”

The only time I’ve ever been in a gym was to pick him up from daycare while his mother was at spin class. I laughed when I saw what a spin class was. I had visions of everyone sitting in colored snow tubs spinning around, which would only make me sick. I didn’t get the point. When I saw what it really was, I still didn’t get the point. Why not just ride a bicycle, for Pete’s sake?

A week later, on the same road, he asks me the same question.
“Tell me again why your arms hang down like that?”
I think: this kid must have a death wish.
“Look. We’ve had this conversation. Just for the record, I’ve no intention of going to a gym. Or exercising. Or lifting weights. I’ve watched people exercise every day of their lives and they up and died anyway. Besides, I’ve figured out how to resolve this. From here on out, I’m wearing long-sleeved shirts. These arms will not see the light of day again.”
And they haven’t.
2007

© 2006, 2007. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.