March Break Week
She's here. It's been a long time, but now she's here again with us. Just the three of us, two old dodderers and one little girl, along with two spoiled little dogs. Weren't we surprised. But when the opportunity reared its head we rose to meet the challenge. Besides, she's a full year older and at that age children gain maturity at an exponential rate. She's had a multitude of new experiences, met many new friends, been subject to entirely new situations which she's had to deal with and has met with great success in all those areas.
Some things don't change. She still paddles about after me wherever I go, whatever I do, and occasionally chimes "what're we going to do now, Bubbe?" But that's all right, because she's gained in maturity and with it a sensitivity to the needs of others, and she understands that sometimes she has to rely on herself, not others. When she'd reminded she does just that. And isn't it a pleasure to have her around us. To be able to view this wonderful creature at our leisure.
She's able to daintily wear the clothing she has carefully selected for this visit, having informed us beforehand that she was intent on packing enough for a year's stay. Not that she would ever agree to anything so monumental, for to leave her beloved mother for any length of time in excess of a few days would wreak havoc with her well-being and that of her mother's. She's taller than me now, and willowy, and blooms with good health.
And all of a sudden this child who once had such a picky appetite is fully prepared to eat just about everything in sight. She knows I approve of any amount of fruit she wants to consume, at any time of the day and finally she is also eating cooked vegetables as well. She won't eat red meat, but does eat poultry and cheese and for heaven's sake, she even insists on making her own scrambled eggs for breakfast. Wonderful beyond words.
When we visited a local bookstore she had a fairly good idea the books she wanted to acquire and set about doing just that. It was my additional choice to select one other book than the four she had chosen, for the purpose of introducing her to another kind of world, a real world of trauma to children just like her, living in the Middle East. Out of which book I read to her in the evening, and speak to her of what I read, with the purpose of instilling in her a curiosity and understanding of worlds outside her own.
She ambled along with us on our daily ravine walk, the snow fast melting around us, her boots not meant for this terrain coming back rather damp. She recommended that we take a shorter walk because, after all, she'd already had an earlier walk that same day and who in the world really needs all that exercise? But we revisited old haunts with her, and she was quickly able to identify the changes that had taken place in the wooded ravine since the last time she'd been there. Mostly a lot of bank collapses alongside the creek, taking trees with the crumbling clay to litter the bed of the creek.
And today, among other things, I gave her a haircut. She always takes readily to this kind of ministration, having discovered that shorter hair makes for less tangled hair. Since she has an extremely unruly/curly head of hair, this is an intelligent decision on her part, to permit me to cut her hair. And she comes out of this exercise looking like the original Gibson Girl, natural beauty incarnate. Her medium-brown hair with its red highlights tumbles into the waste basket and when it has accumulated there the auburn gleams back at me, breaking my heart.
We had a shopping expedition today, to select a few items of clothing for her. She tried on several pieces in the dressing room of the shop we were in, and unselfconsciously showed me how they fit her, and I felt a pang of remembrance - is it really that long since I was such a one as she? Later, she helped me prepare eggrolls for dinner, painting the edges of the pastry squares with a wet brush so they could be folded over the stir-fried vegetable mixture they were stuffed with.
When we read the newspapers, she read one of her books, one chapter after another. Her mother is worried she will be too much of a burden for us for these few days, and we tell our daughter to just relax and enjoy a short respite from constant attendance on her daughter. This is our holiday, too.
Some things don't change. She still paddles about after me wherever I go, whatever I do, and occasionally chimes "what're we going to do now, Bubbe?" But that's all right, because she's gained in maturity and with it a sensitivity to the needs of others, and she understands that sometimes she has to rely on herself, not others. When she'd reminded she does just that. And isn't it a pleasure to have her around us. To be able to view this wonderful creature at our leisure.
She's able to daintily wear the clothing she has carefully selected for this visit, having informed us beforehand that she was intent on packing enough for a year's stay. Not that she would ever agree to anything so monumental, for to leave her beloved mother for any length of time in excess of a few days would wreak havoc with her well-being and that of her mother's. She's taller than me now, and willowy, and blooms with good health.
And all of a sudden this child who once had such a picky appetite is fully prepared to eat just about everything in sight. She knows I approve of any amount of fruit she wants to consume, at any time of the day and finally she is also eating cooked vegetables as well. She won't eat red meat, but does eat poultry and cheese and for heaven's sake, she even insists on making her own scrambled eggs for breakfast. Wonderful beyond words.
When we visited a local bookstore she had a fairly good idea the books she wanted to acquire and set about doing just that. It was my additional choice to select one other book than the four she had chosen, for the purpose of introducing her to another kind of world, a real world of trauma to children just like her, living in the Middle East. Out of which book I read to her in the evening, and speak to her of what I read, with the purpose of instilling in her a curiosity and understanding of worlds outside her own.
She ambled along with us on our daily ravine walk, the snow fast melting around us, her boots not meant for this terrain coming back rather damp. She recommended that we take a shorter walk because, after all, she'd already had an earlier walk that same day and who in the world really needs all that exercise? But we revisited old haunts with her, and she was quickly able to identify the changes that had taken place in the wooded ravine since the last time she'd been there. Mostly a lot of bank collapses alongside the creek, taking trees with the crumbling clay to litter the bed of the creek.
And today, among other things, I gave her a haircut. She always takes readily to this kind of ministration, having discovered that shorter hair makes for less tangled hair. Since she has an extremely unruly/curly head of hair, this is an intelligent decision on her part, to permit me to cut her hair. And she comes out of this exercise looking like the original Gibson Girl, natural beauty incarnate. Her medium-brown hair with its red highlights tumbles into the waste basket and when it has accumulated there the auburn gleams back at me, breaking my heart.
We had a shopping expedition today, to select a few items of clothing for her. She tried on several pieces in the dressing room of the shop we were in, and unselfconsciously showed me how they fit her, and I felt a pang of remembrance - is it really that long since I was such a one as she? Later, she helped me prepare eggrolls for dinner, painting the edges of the pastry squares with a wet brush so they could be folded over the stir-fried vegetable mixture they were stuffed with.
When we read the newspapers, she read one of her books, one chapter after another. Her mother is worried she will be too much of a burden for us for these few days, and we tell our daughter to just relax and enjoy a short respite from constant attendance on her daughter. This is our holiday, too.
Labels: Family
posted by Pieface @ 4:36 PM
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