Journal of a Living Lady #337
Nancy White Kelly
It is almost Christmas. There aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done. It is this way every year. I start early by buying gifts in July and tucking them away in the bedroom closet. One summer I found a stash of missed Christmas presents that transformed themselves into birthday or “no occasion” gifts instead.
Today Buddy and I attended the first Christmas performance that included Charlie and Tori’s sons. Grandson Micah is going on four. Noah is not yet two.
Micah sang Jingle Bells and vigorously rang the batch of silver bells attached to his wrist. He was unaware or didn’t care that he was supposed to keep time with the music. Nobody else seemed to care either as video cameras and digital flashes recorded the rehearsed, yet spontaneous antics for future amusement.
Little Noah, dressed in a Santa suit, was pulled around the church auditorium in a red wagon caravan. Our grandboys were adorable, but what would you expect a proud grandmother to write?
Micah was born prematurely and his parents insist he has slight developmental problems. I don’t notice anything amiss. Being a former professional educator, you’d think I would spot anything significantly troublesome. Charlie says I don’t notice Micah’s language lag because I don’t see him daily. All I see is a quiet, deep thinking little boy who puts together complicated puzzles better than I could. No, Micah isn’t a big talker, but he communicates effectively when he wants to do so.
I was never a big talker either. My mother often told me that, as a baby, I would sit in the floor and entertain myself for hours. I can still do that. Not sit in the floor, mind you, but I can certainly entertain myself without human assistance. There are just not enough hours in the day or sustained energy to accomplish everything on my want to do list after my have to do chores are completed.
Buddy is a morning person and insists I come to bed at night earlier than I would like. It isn’t that he is so concerned about my lack of slumber. He just needs a warm body so he can sleep himself. If he weren’t so persistent about lights out, I would be a perpetual nibbling, nocturnal, computer-using, book-reading junkie.
But, back to our youngest grandson, Noah. I promise he is developing his grandfather’s sense of humor. This was the toddler’s conversation with his mother just yesterday.
TORI: Don’t say “what.” Say “Mam.”
Gotta love him!