Ghosts, Playing, Help!

"I want to scare everybody with these ghost-es," Miss Lilly had found my homemade ghost magnets.

"A-boo!"
"A-boo!"
"It's Happy Halloween"

She actually sang her own lilting tune,
"It's a ghost, ooo-ooo-oo.  It's a ghost, ooo-ooo-oo.  Happy Hallowee-een."

You know what day it actually was?  DECEMBER FIRST!

***

Jay, only 3,  is jabbering and jabbering and engaging me in conversation as I'm making cookies.
I'm between baking batches and resting my feet while I play Candy Crush on the computer.

He jabbers some more trying to engage me further.

"Jay, you can go play.  I don't have to play."

He's a quick analyst, "But you are playing a game.  That means you ARE playing."

***

Jessica is burping her baby Jacob, he spits up all down her Sunday dress, and in a panic, from the front room, we hear her cries, "Help!'

Miss Lilly playing in the family room, kneeling in front of the couch scooting toy pigs and sheep to a pretend trough to drink, hears her, and replies, "Do somebody need help, a little bit more?"

Her mom in the other room with a bit of a chuckle in her panicked voice, "Help!"

Lilly runs by me straight to her mom, "Did somebody need "Help"?"
"Does somebody need a Super Hero?"

What Toddler Eyes Spy

We have a glider much like the first picture here, but its always put it away for the winter along with all the other lawn furniture.

Currently, all those pieces are leaning against each other in the garage.  That glider's in a sideways and covered up position.  

Now, picture it.  You're Miss Lilly, 3 years old, only about "knee high to a grasshopper" and you're rarely allowed into the garage.  It can be a dangerous place, but it's FULL, and oh so  interesting, and you've just dared to venture into No-No land.  

To enter No-No Land you have to navigate carefully down three steps half as high as your own thigh.  Your eyes are wide as everything out there feels like it towers over you, so your view is pretty much blocked and everything's in your face 'cause you can't see up and over and the walkways are narrow and closed in.  You're taking it all in, and this adventure is exciting because you know that somewhere out that in that tangle of wood boxes, folding chair legs, extension cords stretched from here to there on the floor, buckets of kindling, and GwammyPam's red car is your cozy coup and your red tricycle.  You're searching for all those fun, familiar things of yours.  "Oh, there's the butterfly nets!  And, there's the "duckies for the water" and "there's Jayden's pool".  Then!  Then you spy it! 

 "Gwammy Pam!  Gwammy Pam!"  and you're upset.

Grammy Pam steps into the garage to see what the upset is all about.  It takes a few sentences of toddler talk and adult detecting to figure it out.  

It shouldn't be in here.  It shouldn't be leaning sideways.   That's just wrong with its gray plastic legs sticking up in the air!   "That's my picnic table!"   "Fix it!"

IN THE RESTROOM, IN CHURCH, NO JACOB!

We were in church listening to the minister.  Miss Lilly was busy, busy, busy.  Her mom was home sick with baby Jacob.  Miss Lilly's business was all about child's play as her little black skirt swished when she walked.  At this moment she was standing on the floor leaning into the blue upholstered pew, and on the seat she was wrapping her baby doll in a blanket while next to her daddy.   The preacher said something about the House of Jacob in his sermon.  You think little ears don't hear?  Well, she went right up to her dad who was leaning forward, elbows on knees, with the Bible in his hands, and she poked her head between his arms and quizzed, "He said Jacob.  Why he say Jacob?"

LOL, little ears, they do pick up things.

During the same service she gave me an education.  This little sprit of a determined girl instructed me on how to wrap some pennies, LOL.  I wrapped them like a baby, no, that wasn't it, then I wrapped them like a hobo's bag, no, that wasn't it.  Come to find out, she wanted them wrapped so they resembled a sack that she could put on her back, "like Santa" she firmly said.  LOL.  

Oh, and you should see her in a public restroom, that's a sideshow in itself.  I told her not to touch anything "and I mean anything."  Those places are so filthy.  No matter how or who or when cleaned, they remain filthy places.  So while I'm locking the stall door, she gently takes one finger (I'm watching out of the corner of my eye) and swipes it about 12 inches along the wall, with a direct look into my eyes she rebels,  "I touched the wall." 

Grrr, the minx, she's testing boundaries.

When we were done, (and let me ask you, How on earth do you help a little girl get soap from the dispenser and wash her hands in those tall-off-the-ground sinks especially when we're all used to step stools?) she had a fit.  "My pants are wet!" and she flings her arms and hands down her side in a huffy stance and pouts her lips.  Now, I'm totally flummoxed.  Her pants are wet?  How?  How could her pants be wet?  Did she miss the stool?  Did she wet herself before we went in?  What the heck is this all about?

Finally, we communicated.  It was her pants, the knees!  They were wet from the struggle to wash her hands!  Oh, my lands!

But this little bathroom episode is chock full of laughs and I'm sure the occupant next door heard childlike exclamations.  While she was still sitting there, doing her business, her eyes got big, she was half scared, her lips made an "Oh" and I had to think a minute 'cause she hadn't left her seat so it shouldn't have flushed, she hadn't reached around to pull the lever, but our cubicle was filled with this huge all engulfing sound of  "SWOOSH!"

It had come from the neighboring stall.

LOL, Miss Lilly and child's play, like my own kids antics, make my day.

Lady and The Spencer

In the Dollar Tree store, the public address system made a scritchy-scratch sound, then a woman's voice from the ceiling said, "I need..." scritchy-scratch sound again, and that click of disconnect.

Spencer and I continued shopping, me checking out the Christmas clearance.  PA system came on again, scritchy-scratch sound, woman's voice, "I need a waaa-waaa-waaa...." scritchy-scratch sound and click of disconnect.

Spencer and I are laughing, "Come on, you can do it, lady.  Try again."  Of course, she was at the other side of the store and couldn't hear us, but we were sure sending her motivating vibes anyway.  Finally, scritchy-scratch sound, woman's voice, "I need a manager, please", and click.  We gave each other a nod of approval, "good job." She got it done.

We are done shopping and in line at the check out, and I announce how I don't like to handle those little black stylus pens on the side of the credit card reader.  It's a new thing where the cashier asks you if you want a paper receipt or not, but you have to answer by picking up that stylus and touching yes or no on the screen with it.  "Ugh.  I hate using that." Turning to Spencer, I clarify, " Do you know EVERYBODY HAS to use that now, whether you want a receipt or not, EVERYONE has to touch it.  People with colds, men who've picked their noses, women with hankies in their hands or that have just wiped their toddler's face.  It's gross."

Well, he got me.  He got the cashier, too.  He got her to laughing, heartily.

As we walked out the door, he said, "Did you see her face when we walked through line?  She was ready to quit.  She was about to walk out the door.  But we made her laugh, now it's not so bad, she's gonna have a good day."

Want to know what he said?  And, btw, what does he know about it?  He's a single guy, never married!

He said, "Mom, just look at the money she's handing you in change!  Just think about it, Mom.  You don't know where that money's been.  It could've come out of a stripper's g-string!"

POOR THING, TREETOP ANGEL

Never, ever, has this happened before!  In all my years of raising toddler have toddler after toddler never, ever, has this happened before!

We've hung the Christmas tree upside down from the ceiling, decorated with red ribbon and a star on the bottom (or should I say the top).

We've secured half a Christmas tree firmly against the wall, strung with multi-colored lights.

We've surrounded the Christmas tree with decorated cement blocks to resemble presents to keep the toddlers' walkers at bay.

And this year, for only the second time ever, we put a short Christmas tree on top of a table. We adorned it with crystal orbs and reflective icicles and silvery glittery garland.

It stood there a month.

Now, Christmas Day, sitting on the floor playing with grand babies, Miss Lilly toddles over to me and  pushes something in my face, asking, "What's this?"  I pulled my head back to put an eyeball on it -- focus, focusing -- IT'S THE TREETOP ANGEL!!!!!

"WHERE'D YOU GET THAT??????"

Raising my head a bit higher, laser seeking eyes looking towards the Christmas tree, "OH MY LANDS!"  It looked quite sad laying in front of the picture window on it's side.  Settled over some forgotten presents, across the couch's arm rest, drooping white & silver garland, there were pieces parts scattered in its crash.  Poor thing, it had a broken leg!

Without notice, and ever so softly, the Christmas tree had fallen.

AND THE EGG YOU SPY MAKES FIVE

Miss Lilly came in, bringing Christmas with her wearing a little red jumper and candy cane stripped shirt.  She hadn't had breakfast, yet.  It was no one's fault just the circumstances.

Our table was set with pretty dishes, red poinsettia napkins, pedestal crystal fruit bowl full of grapes, and foods that didn't need warmed like cranberry jello, walnut banana bread, and deviled eggs.

Miss Lilly looked it over, "I want egg."
So, I fed her one.  

Then, I fixed her a plate of cranberry jello, partial banana, and sausage link.  Ta-daaa, a breakfast of sausage and egg, right?  (Convoluted thinking, but like hubby told our son, "When kids come here hungry, I'm gonna feed 'em.")

Later, sitting around the Christmas table, there were 9 of us for dinner.   I did wiggle in a separate 3-chaired kids' table.  That totaled 12 mouths to feed.  While filling our plates with turkey and mashed taters, Rusty says, "Why only one plate of deviled eggs?  You ALWAYS make 2!"

I looked to the end of the table and there's only a couple deviled eggs left.  Raising my eyes I meet Clint's twinkling eyes and spy a half eaten deviled egg in his mouth as he's poking the rest in. He raises his other hand and spreads out the fingers like a high five, but no, after the egg goes all the way in, and his now jobless hand points to the finger-spread hand, he nods his head in affirmation to say this egg was his FIFTH!  HIS FIFTH!

After swallowing, he asks, "Can I have one more?" and he laughs, "that would make it even.  I would've had 3 whole eggs then."

There are no words to express my Shock and Awe!

Awed that he could and
shocked that he would!!!

My quiet, non-troublemaking Clint, the biggest EGG of all!

ISLAND MAKING LILLY'S WAY

Miss Lilly decorated the church, yep, she did!   Five adults prepped the stage for the little kids Christmas program coming up this weekend, and Lilly helped.  

Remember that old Shake and Bake commercial, where the little girl with her southern twang happily chimed in, "And I helped."  Well, that was Miss Lilly.

On that Sunday after church, after a quick meal at Subway, a few of us traipsed back to the church to put up a curtain rod and a backdrop.  That's all that was needed from the men.  But, you know, with all that help, and their willingness to stick around to do more, we did.  We did more.  And don't forget Miss Lilly, she helped.  And I mean, she de-cor-ated...!


The theme?  "I Saw Three Ships".  The stage would be set as a pier with a palm tree hanging over a trunk, a fence roll, a barrel, some crates, and some wooden boxes.  Painted in the center of the backdrop would be a big brown ship moored to shore.  

While I sat on the blue carpeted floor to cut nylon fishing line to length to hang some jellyfish, Miss Lilly was busy, too.  She dismantled my 10 inch palm tree!  

Yep, that palm tree became a tower on her island in the middle of the sanctuary.

I didn't realize what the mess was all about until her daddy, told me, "Well, yah, I knew that.  That's what she said it was."  She'd pulled 3 foam play mats from some other kid's pew and dotted it with jumbo legos, her houses.  

When I got up to find some nails for the men, she unrolled a ball of large rope down the length of the church, but when she started on the nylon fishing line I'd left lay, I said,  "Uh-uh, girl, that's not happening!"  

An unfolded step ladder became a mountain to climb, a nativity wiseman became a lost man on that island, and an open pocket knife got preemptively snatched when we spied her chubby little hands reaching out, "What's this?"

As we walked up and down the church looking for her misplaced green teddy bear, there were obvious evidences of unobserved play -- boxes askew, pencil laying on scribbled paper, books flat open, and...hey, wait a minute, "Oh, Miss Lilly!"... there on their sides laid two little brown boots..."Are you missing your shoes?"  

At this point, she not only had lost her shoes, and her green teddy bear, she lost her good mood, too.  She didn't want to go home.  There were too many fun, unhindered by parents, things to do; and lots of space to do it in!

When an overly large white wooly sheep can be your pony, who needs a children's Christmas play?

Decorating is much more fun, just ask a wiseman.