It’s another rainy day. Not that I’m complaining, mind you – our lovely spring rains evaporated long ago and we’ve been living under drought conditions. I’ve been praying for a whole bunch of rain, I just didn’t expect it to come all at once!
After breakfast, we do some puzzles, but Jet keeps checking the window in hopes we will be able to take our walk. The forecast says thunderstorms, however, so even though the rain is light, I worry about taking her out. Eventually, I can’t deny her just a little bit of rain.
“What are you looking for, Grandma?”
“You’ll see.” I rummage around in the bread dough tray where we throw our outerwear.
“My underbrella! You found my underbrella!”
“Yep, that’s what it is all right. Do you want to go out on the front sidewalk with it? My phone says we may get some thunder and lightening, so we can’t go very far.”
She does. Of course she does! She’s barefoot, which I think will work just fine, but Jet has other ideas. “I need my boots! Where are my boots?” Soon she is holding her sparkly pink snow boots with furry pink trim.
“They might be too small now,” I warn her.
Jet manages to cram them on her feet and we proceed to the front porch. The rain patters on her umbrella as she runs back and forth on the sidewalk and jumps up and down in the puddles until she has had enough fun. I don’t think she will be able to wear these pink boots in the fall and I realize that from now on she will probably need to get boots she can hand down to her brothers: blue, red, yellow, black or green, but not pink.
Back inside, I can see that her enthusiasm for her available playthings is waning. “Do you want me to put up the tent?” Of course she does!
She watches me unfold the tent and open the poles. “Kitty is very sad because she isn’t allowed to help you put up the tent. She’s crying.”
“Kitty is crying?”
“Yes, her mommy said she is too little to help.”
Clever Jet. She is offering me an allegory to help me re-think my actions. “Do you want to help?” Of course she does!
After the tent has been assembled, I take a bathroom break. When I return, Jet has moved with lightning speed to put every toy and book in the room into the tent. I am impressed. Jet is not impressed. Her new little house is lacking a door! I have just the thing: a twin sheet in a matching color! Jet is delighted.
“Come in my little house, Grandma, and sit like this.” She demonstrates folding her legs tailor-style.
“Grandma’s legs don’t work that way anymore.” I can’t even remember the last time it was possible to bend that way, but just because I love her I lower myself tthe ground and crawl into the tent on my belly.
“Come all the way in, Grandma.”
“This is the best I can do, Jet.” She knows I am telling the truth because she’s never seen me sit cross-legged, so this time she doesn’t ask “why.”
When my elbows get tired and Jet seems content in her own little world I make my escape. Getting back up is harder than the reverse. I can let my right leg slide out on the way down, but since I can only bend one knee properly, I need to crawl over to a piece of furniture I can use for leverage. My limit for this activity is once per day and Jet rarely forgets to claim it.
“Get down on the floor one time, Grandma,” she’ll say, and I always do. As I’ve said, I love her – much, much more than my knees.