Stage Right

ages 3 and 8, November 2010

The Hedonist and the Refugee ~ Satchel was all fun, fun, fun. “Can we go to the movies and to the toy store and bake cookies and play dominoes and can you read me a book and can we draw dragons together and then can we go to the park, can we huh? huh?
I ask, “All in the next three hours?
He says, “Sure!” He takes after his father.
He now has a sister. Temple, who dresses herself, is all girl. She either looks like a Hungarian refugee or else she’s in pink with netting, tights, leopard print, and all the necessary accessories. She takes after her mother.
I have them once or twice a week and it only takes me a day or two to recover. Mostly we cook, but not all at the same time. I tried that and it was a meltdown in the kitchen, not to mention the flour and sugar that got tracked from here to kingdom come. They are nearly always even-tempered, sweet, easy to be with, and great conversationalists, though for some odd reason Temple has a Boston accent so I miss what she says sometimes. Cooking is our favorite thing to do. She told me I was the best cooker. I love that child.
November 2010

Fickle Four-year-old ~ On Fridays I pick up my granddaughter at pre-school. Yesterday, when she saw me, she broke into a wail. “I don’t want to go with you! I don’t like you!”
“What happened? You liked me last week.”
“I don’t care,” she sobs. “I don’t like you now and I don’t want to go with you.”
Hiking her writhing body up over my shoulder, I bundle her out to the car and strap her in her car seat. She’s still howling as I turn the car around to head to my house. I let her go on for another minute, then stop the engine, pivot, and level a look at her.
“Temple, knock it off. NOW.”
She surveys me, stops, and says, “Okay,” as if nothing ever happened.
I’ve never seen a quicker turnaround in my life, not even on the stage.
2012

Fine China ~ I picked her up again the next week and as I was securing her into her car seat (which cost more than my first car), I lift her skirt so I can lock in the side straps. She looks at me in shock.
“You touched my china. Don’t touch my china!”
“Oh for criminy sake, relax, I didn’t do it on purpose, and where, may I ask, are your underpants?
“They got wet during playtime.”
“Well then, strap yourself in. And don’t go around town telling everyone I touched your china cuz they’ll toss my bootie in the pokey.”
2012

© 2010, 2012. Catherine Sevenau.
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