Untying The Knots

What’s that sound I hear?

Melodic silence greeted me this morning.

Not at the godawful hour of 5:30 a.m. (their witching hour) but at a more respectable 6:30. The only sounds on this Sunday morning are the hawks and birds and the incessant warning squeak of a ground squirrel.

As I restore the house to a once again adult dwelling, moving the breakables back into their original position, I turn to the garden where I’m greeted with a massive knot installation by Captain Theo.

He had been deeply involved in a fantasy world of boats where he was the captain and we had to salute and respond to him with “Aye aye, Captain.” I asked him what my job was on the ship and he said I was his Mate, and so I was referred to as “Matey.”

Don’t even ask me where his creative little mind dredged up that scenario, but it was SUPER cute, as Char would say.

He wore a hat and gathered up all the rope he could find, along with some buckets and an old oar that was lying around, and proceeded to create a fairly sophisticated jumble of knots, all the more impressive because no one had ever taught him about the art of knot tying.

He designated himself as Captain of his world–that level of self confidence in a child is positive and healthy especially since he really really loves to give orders, which is why he’s been called Bossy Boots since he was two.

When it was time to untie the knotted structure because he wanted to build something else, he was frustrated and asked for help.

Always looking for the lesson in things–a teachable moment–as I sort of guided his unraveling, we chatted about what it feels like to be frustrated and how sometimes, a task like UNtying knots opens up an opportunity to learn to really pay attention (mindfulness) and practice patience.

Thereafter, his new phrase to Char was, “Just be a little patient and it will all work out.”

Hand to heart, that child is beyond precious. What a gift he is.

Now if someone could just get over here and help me untie the knots he left behind I’d really appreciate it!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Patience, Princess.”

PATIENCE.

BREATHE INTO IT.

The last time…(More heartstopping chat with a mini-human)

I haven’t written in a while because it took me such a long time to recover from a whirlwind visit with my Angel Boy 2.0 as well as being presented to the Court of ANGEL GIRL 2.0, Baby Charlotte, named in honor of my mom.

The very definition of “hell on wheels.”

Below you’ll find a a fairly accurate transcript of my final day…If this was paper and not a computer screen, it’d be blurry with tear-stained ink. My tears. Heart wrenching love.

6:00 a.m. I hear swift and stompy footsteps running downstairs and soon my bedroom door opens, “Wake up, little Grandma!”

He climbs under the covers and snuggles close.

“How did you sleep, my little Theo?”

I’m not little Theo, you’re little Grandma.”

OK, how did you sleep, medium Theo?

“Goooood.”

“Did you have any dreams?

I can’t even begin to tell you the details of the storyline of the dream he recounted, because the twists and turns of his brilliant little mind involved Saturn (his fave planet), a dragon, a dinosaur, a spooky ghost, rocket ships to space, and a boat in the sky.

“What do you want for breakfast, T?”

“Last oatmeal, Grandma.”

“WHAT? What did you say?”

“This is the last time you’ll make oatmeal for me”, he said with a sad sad voice.

“Oh T, break my heart why don’t you?”

“It’s not the last time I’ll make oatmeal for you; there will alwaysalwaysalways be a next time. This is the last time for NOW. OK?

Then he was on a roll…all day long…

“Last cuddle, Grandma.”

“Last playing with Magna Tiles.”

“Last breakfast burrito.”

Calling out to dad who was still asleep upstairs, “DAD, COME DOWN FOR LAST BREAKFAST BURRITOS!”

“Last walk in the neighborhood.”

“Last bicycle ride to the school playground.”

“Last time you’ll get me dressed in the morning.”

“Last time you’ll read me a book.”

“UNTIL NEXT TIME, Theo! Not the last time forever, my angel!”

“Last time you’ll tel me to wash my hands after going to the bathroom”.

One of our running jokes is to look up as a jet flies overhead and say, “You missed your flight, Grandma! You’ll have to stay longer!”

Or I’ll look up and say, “Oh my goodness, T-man, we didn’t get to the airport in time, there goes my airplane, now what will we do??”

On our way to the airport for real, we sing songs and play funny word games.

“Grandma, I’m coming to your house for 59 days. I’m flying home with you. Not in the same plane, but the one that goes after.”

“Fifty-nine days? That’s a good long visit for sure.”

“Oh no, Grandma, we’re here. Last time to say goodbye”, he says in a that same small sad voice.

We hug and kiss goodbye, “Until next time, not forever, OK?”

“OK, Grandma. I love you.”

“I love you SO much, my angel.”