Sunday, January 9, 2011

Jack, What's Your Twenty, Over?

Getting even is wonderful fun.

Jack's got what we think are DTs from a full week at Bebe's house with the usual crew of colorful relatives giving him round the clock attention.  And now that we're back in Texas, he's letting us have it nightly.  Because we're boring, I guess.  Never one to just float off to sleep, the routine is pretty brutal lately.  With the sobbing.  And the demanding of the other parent (I hear, "I WANT MOMMY!" and  Majesty hears, "I WANT DAAADDY!").  At least he's got the real-deal little person guitar to fend off our brand of boredom with.  And then there's the sandbox.

Oh the sandbox.  The sandbox is the greatest thing in the world.  It's not huge, but it's comfy for one (see pics).  I went and got 250 lbs of "play grade" sand at the local Hardware R' Us - which is sand that's (mostly) sans rusty nails and depleted uranium rods.  I stack it in the garage and will get to setting it up later.  But when I come home, Super Grover Majesty has already filled all 250 lbs into the box by her lonesome.  That chick is awesome.

Anyway, I think I've forgotten more about my life than I actually know about it currently.  Let me back up.  We're playing in the thing, Jack and I.  You know, as boys are wont to do.  Jack demands that I fill his plastic cup up with my yellow bucket full of sand.  Over and over and over and over to infinity plus one.  I'm having a blast, and pretty sure it's mutual on his part.  It's this gorgeous but chilly day.  And I smell it.  The smell of cold air, and dry leaves, and fine dust from (play grade) sand and just a bit of sweat.  It was, ladies and gentlemen, the smell of being very young.  It was the smell of not just a playground, or a sandbox, but of playing in them.  Which is categorically different.

I blurted this out to H.M.  I think she thought I was nuts.  You know, like the other 10,000 times.

Anyway, this is your encouragement for reclaiming what simple memories you still can.  The ones that are back there, way back somewhere, lost in the Dewey Decimal System gray matter, overcome by the online banking passwords and TV show themes and multiplication tables we crowded on top of the really elemental stuff.

One of the most entertaining things about being a parent is simply remembering what it was all like to be small.  The problem with that is when you're really savoring the experience, immense responsibility cracks you on the head again.

I was working out in the back of the house this weekend, just minding my own, when Jack strolls out, barefoot, to inspect what I was doing.  "Did mommy let you out here?  Let's go ask her where your shoes are, okay?"  I then realize, there are no shoes.  There is no mommy.  There is, however, panic.

That little sucker opened the door by himself.

Ah.  Perhaps I left the door ajar.  I stuff him back in the house, blinking at me, and firmly shut the door.  He just looks at me coolly, puts his right hand up on the knob, and leans back, using his whole weight to turn his grip and jimmy the door in the same motion.

Ruht roh, Raggy!

All sorts of new schemes are now being cooked up around Central Command.  We're currently concocting a regime of deadbolt keys, walkie talkies, secret handshakes and CB handles.  I staked out mine before it got taken:
"Uh breaker, breaker, this is Big Pink Fuzzy Wuzzy Bear.  Jack o' Hearts, whacher twenny, over?  We gotta smokey in the grass with his disco lights on hangin' paper all over I-45, come on..." 
On a random note, the usual insanity around the house is now punctuated by, no kidding, Jack singing I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy.  Where, you ask?  Down in his heart, right.  We still get the occasional Silent Night (his best, in our view) or a really nice Itsy Bitsy Spider.  It's a little flat, but really, who are we to complain?


Anonymous said...

What a deal to play in the sand! Next, the captain will be putting on his socks and walking over the railroad!! That's a whole OTHER story!

Donna said...

We have this exact same sandbox and it is in my top 5 toys of all time categories- and we've had the same one for 5 years- so they hold up great! Here's to years of playin in the dirt and being a kid.