Planting Dandelions

"They were here!"

I knew it.  I knew they'd been in my house while I was gone.

Little cars here, milk messes there, dino findings under the couch, evidences of an ouchie, and from-home-toys left behind, all proclaim the truth about the toddlers previous presence, "They were here."

And I'm sure being little toddlers tied to their car seats,  it was a long destination for Jayden and Miss Lilly, to arrive at our house, after all, they can't see anything out those windows except passing telephone poles and a few billboards.

Remember those maps on the wall of the visitor centers where you stopped for a rest along the interstate during a long drive to your vacation's destination?  The buildings were usually of brick, and the wall map always had a pin to draw your eyes with "You are here!" written in big red letters.

Well, my eyes are drawn to last nights ravages; little evidences of little people, "They were here!"

***
In case you don't know how my house is laid out, I can stand in the kitchen, look over the pony wall, across the family room to see whoever is standing at the sliding glass doors on the deck outside.  Well, adults I can see.  Children and pets I can not see unless I reposition myself.

One day, "Knock, knock, knock" I hear, and it's a quick happy knock but not adult-loud.  At first I thought, "What is that?"  Brain kicks into gear,  "Sounds like knocking on glass."
So I step from behind the pony wall looking to all the doors to see if I can catch a glimpse of something or someone, when I spy little 3 y.o. Jayden.  He's grinning happily, clutching his jacket slung over his arm, face pressed against the glass trying to see in, and pecking at the glass with his other hand.

I opened the door and he says, "Hi.  It's me!"  I'm laughing now because I sure do know him.  He's still talking, "Pa-em?  I love you."

Ah, my heart gets all soggy sweet.

***

Just the other day when Jayden came to visit he brought nothing except his jacket.  So out came the toys.  First the red trike.  While I cleared a path, he took off.  "Pa-em", he called.  And, let me tell you I don't know how he says my name.  It starts out sounding like Pam, but it ends up sounding like pen as in ink pen, it seems like 2 syllables but he says 'em snappy together as one, really fast, something like "Pa-em."

"I found white ball.  I need a hole."
So I get the bulb planter and make a hole.  Jayden gets pouty, points to the cement pad under his feet, and insists, "Right here."  I had to laugh at his thinking I could dig a hole in concrete.  He's so innocent.

While I put the bulb planter back in the garage, he spies a red handled tool and scuttles out of the garage into the fenced yard, plops on the ground and starts digging.   WITH A SCREWDRIVER he digs!!!!  Many holes!  I tell you, he dug a bunch of holes.  I just kept my eye on that screwdriver.  If I didn't, hard telling when and where I'd find it next.  I know this.  Six boys later it's something I know.

This Jayden works hard.  After triking, playing with the kitties, swinging a golf club at the white ball 20 times, swinging in the tree, building towers out of buckets, and digging holes, I knew he worked hard.  In the end, he plucked two gossamer dandelions and planted them both into one hole.  "Look, Pa-em, look!"

The world needs more dandelions, right?
Well, it does need more innocent dandelion planters.

If for no other reason than to say "I was here."

"Can't walk" with The Pirate

“I can’t walk,” said Jay.

“Come on, Jay.”  I said as we got out of the truck.  I trudged through a ridge of snow formed on Mary’s sidewalk. 

He replied, “I can’t walk.”

I looked back and he was doing okay, carrying his hat and gloves, wearing snowsuit and snow boots. He was following happily like a trailing puppy.

“You’re doing fine, just follow my foot prints.”

It was noon, time to take Jay to Mary Ann’s house.  We’d babysat this 3 y.o. foster child of Rusty’s all morning, so at noon we’d planned to take him next door.   Here in Indiana we’d just suffered negative degree weather with power outages, and there was lots of snow piled around.  Jay was struggling but managing all right.

Next thing I knew, Jay called, “Mar-ry.”

I said, “She can’t hear you, honey.  She’s inside her house.”

I just had to laugh ‘cause this little tyke was funny, he informed me with a nodding head,   “I vwery woud.” then raised his voice, A LOT, and YELLED, at the top of his lungs,  “MAR-REEEEE!”  

I chuckled.  Earlier he had me laughing, too.

“Pirates!” I heard Jay’s upset voice. 

“There’s a pirate,” he said adamantly to me.

“He has a sword.”  And he nodded his head for emphasize.

“I don’t like sword.”  It took me a minute to figure out what on earth he was talking about, when I did figure it out, I reassured him that yes, it was a pirate, but it was just a figurine, like some of his toys.

He had pointed to the top of the 6 foot tall cabinet in the bathroom where John’s 10-inch ceramic pirate stands proudly on a wooden peg leg, with a hand on his hip, a sword stabbed into the ground, and a black tricorn hat set crookedly to show his black patched eye.

“I don’t like pirates.”

I said soothingly, “But he’s a good pirate.”

Evidently  he didn’t think I was taking him seriously enough. He just wasn’t getting through to me. He left and went to the kitchen and told John all about it, “He’s a BAD pirate!”   “He a monster!  BAD!”

Well, really, you can’t dispute that.  I made him walk and Pirates make ya walk, too.  “Walk the plank, m’heartie!”  Someone’s always making you walk when you can’t.  “Monster! Bad!”