Owen arrived tired, having slept very little the night before. His mama had every expectation that a grumpy day would ensue. It didn’t. He broke into song as I delivered his breakfast, “It’s Owen’s Grandma Day, Owen’s Grandma Day, I gonna play, I like fruit snacks, I like fruit snacks, it’s Owen’s Grandma Day….”
He flashed a grin, “I have fruit snacks!”
“I know! Mommy told me. Do you want to eat them for your snack later?”
“Yes,” he whispered. Owen and his brother have a mysterious tendency to whisper their responses on random occasions.
Our routine has been well established and as I wipe his face and hands he recites the particulars, “now I go potty and brush my teef, then we play!”
In the bathroom I apply the paste, and Owen brushes carefully. “Your turn,” he announces and I brush a bit more.
“Now go potty.”
“No! You forget to brush my hair so I be handsome!”
“Oh gosh, yes! We need to brush your hair! I did forget.” Owen likes to have his bangs brushed to the side and his cowlick slicked down with a bit of water. It won’t last, but he looks in the mirror and smiles. “Do you like it?”
“Let’s get your clothes on and you can choose some toys.”
Owen selects carefully: some macaroni and plastic jars in a bin to feel and pour; a toy coffee maker; a doll-sized high chair; his old potty chair; a doll cradle. “I want the hat and clothes,” he says as he rummages around in another bin. “Where is them?”
“I think maybe they are still in the cradle?” They were. Owen has everything he needs and his face glows with happiness. Today, as always, he has brought his stuffed penguin, Ping. He has another friend with him too that brings a lump to my throat.
“You brought BROWNIE!” Owen smiles. He knows he has something very dear: his mama’s own special stuffed rabbit friend from her childhood. Brownie is as dear a memory to me as he must be to my daughter. In my mind’s eye I see her clutching him as I tuck her into bed. Brownie is seated on Papa’s wingback chair to observe the proceedings.
The first order of business is to dress Ping. His large penguin feet are difficult to smoosh thru the leg holes, so Grandma must help. Next, Ping eats a breakfast of dry macaroni while perched in the high chair before story time.
Ping likes the story of Pip, the Adelie penguin who is three years old, just like Owen. “How old are you, Owen?”
“Four!” he shouts. I tickle him into admitting he is actually three. “Ping is four,” his grin announcing that he will have the last word.
“Is he? That’s great!
Ping spends a great deal of time adjusting his appearance, pulling down his outfit to use the potty and putting his hat on and off. Then he is tired and wants to nap. While he is sleeping, Owen makes coffee with the toy Keurig that is just like Papa’s. He and Papa make a hissing water sound as the coffee brews. They sit back in their chairs and enjoy several cups of coffee together. Grandma doesn’t drink coffee so she gets a hot chocolate from time to time.
It’s a good day.