In my pew at church I have a stash of children's books and some coloring books with crayons to entertain any grandkid that might venture back to my seat. Also, in a box covered in ruby flowers are things like thumb push puppet giraffe, flat wooden puzzles, and a small blue container of miniature doll house furniture with some to-scale zoo animals, a pocket watch, and a pinch of flowers.
I've had these at home for 30 years. Didn't bring them to church until Miss Lilly was born. So they've been played with for 7 years by many a child. Then along comes Jacob. A boy.
Everyone knows boys and girls think different. Boys and girls don't have the same interests. And, boys and girls don't actively play in the same manner.
Little girls will set up the furniture in a house-like fashion and gently set the animals and flowers atop so they don't fall or rock. Then they sit back and admire their display, "GrammyPam, look!" I give a smile and a thumbs up. Then say, "Shhhh, we're in church, whisper, please."
One such miniature piece is an end table complete with a little drawer and a little knob, and two shelves underneath. Invariably grandkids want the pocket watch, or a penny, to fit in the drawer. Fit, they don't. They almost do, but they don't. So, the penny or watch get parked on the bottom shelf.
Not Jacob! The watch gets squished in! The sides of the drawer bulge! And the drawer gets stuck! "Fix GrammyPam, fix." Sometime or another, the drawer pull disappeared.....
So, it's a new Sunday, Jacob sits with me, and out comes the doll furniture. He says, "I'm hungry." So I give him a little red box of raisins. Nutritious. Appropriate serving size. Easy clean-up. I'm at ease, he's playing quietly. I sing a song. Someone speaks. And then, there's little unhappy noises making their way to my ears. I look down and Jacob has squished some raisins into this tiny, tiny drawer, and shoved it shut! How do I know there are raisins in there? I see one little raisin is herniated, and sealed the drawer! Oh, my lands! And I can't get it open.
I send him and raisin-fed end table back to Spencer who I figure has a pocket knife. He doesn't. He laughs the whole time he's demonstrating how he had to get out two credit cards to wiggle them between the edges and pry that little drawer loose. He asks, "Did you know the pull is missing, Mom?"
******
You think that's the end of it? Well, let me give you some back story. Jacob wears a backpack to church, child-size. He's very adept at taking it off and putting it on. And weight doesn't matter.
One Sunday he began unloading his backpack beside me onto the pew's upholstered blue seat. Out came monster trucks. Out come another. He lined up some more. A blue one. A black one. A red one. A white one. Another, and another, and another. There were 30 monster trucks!!!!!!
A few Sunday's after that, his backpack was extremely heavy, let me emphasize extremely heavy. Maybe 10 pounds, or more! He unloaded it, again onto the blue covered bench seat next to me. This time it was trains. Wooden trains. Train after train. Some hooked up, some were Brio, some connected by magnetism, some were his Dad's old ones, all were Matchbox sized. Some were two pieces, some had the capacity to hold stuff, some were yellow with a crane. All were important. I think he brought every one he owned from home! At least 30 maybe 40. Thankfully, he never uttered a "Whoo-hooooooooo" or a "chug-a-chugga."
So, it's a new Sunday. Checking out the interactive and peek-a-boo books was over. Eating raisins was done. Putting the puzzles together was a success, even though he'd mixed all six sets together beforehand. And the drawer was fixed. What next? The backpack!
Oh, no. I didn't know what to expect. I knew it was going to be interesting. I knew I had to be on the alert for toys falling to the floor and subsequent noises. He laboriously unzipped it. He pulled the flap back with his left hand. His right hand went in. He reared his little torso slightly back, (I'm sure to compensate for girth and weight) and brought it out and up over his head -- a large green John Deere tractor, with big black bar tread tires, as big as his head, JUST ONE!
Shew!
Now, you know what monster trucks do, don't you? Come on, you don't have to guess -- they smash and conquer!
I watched as his eyes spied the little red raisin box, and I knew what was coming next!
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