Felice

elice

“Beep Beep”

The “announcement” was delivered simultaneously with a push on my left arm designed to make me move the arm away from the table so the ‘beeper” could gain a clear path of “escape “ from the temporary bondage she had been held in while she worked on “her” computer. The computer is an old Gateway that we had forever before we bought a new one and transferred all of the files. We left the old one set up on the coffee table in case there were any files we forgot to move. If there were, we could get a thumb drive, copy them, and transfer to the new machine.

In the meantime, because it had sat there for so long, the computer had become hers by default and it had to remain in that very place on the table in case she wanted to attack it in one of her own special two year old ways.

The “beep beep” signaled that she was through computing for the moment, as there were other things to do and I was totally in her way and hindering her advancement to the next activity. And believe me, in her world there is always plenty to do.

After she escaped the bondage of the arm and the table, it was off to the kitchen where she promptly opened one of the lower food cabinet and began removing its contents in a not so organized way to a pile on the kitchen floor. When all was as it should be (scattered and chaotic) she stood up and proceeded to march into the office where her grocery cart is stored. The cart is a miniature replica of a real cart that is made out of metal, has real wheels and is just her size. Securing the cart she returned with it to the kitchen where she informed her grandma that it was time to go shopping by looking at her, smiling, and announcing “shop”. Shopping means that her and grandma put all of the scattered items on the floor into the cart at which point the 2 year old proceeds to push the cart around the house in random routes that include through the living room, around the table, and across the kitchen, laughing and giggling all the way.

Tiring quickly of this shopping expedition, she proceeds to the refrigerator where a magnetic doll is stuck to the black door. There are several magnetic outfits arranged around the girl in a circle. The outfits can be used to dress the girl in winter, summer, and athletic clothes.

“Grandpa, sit!” she commands and motions with her hand to a spot on the floor next to her. This indicates that I am to sit and help dress the girl on the refrigerator. Picture a 59 year old, 260 pound man sitting on the floor of his kitchen next to a two year old with pigtails dressing a magnetic girl. I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, but what can I do when I am so assertively commanded.

As soon as I get to the floor and put a pair of magnetic boots on the girl, she stands up, grabs grandma’s hand and takes her to the zone (the coffee table where the computer sits) in the family room for some stickers and coloring activity, leaving me and the fridge girl to our own devices. The zone consists of an owl stool, the computer, an end of the coffee table covered with dolls, games, books, baskets, and sticker pages. The zone is the first thing that gets set up with every visit. Nothing else happens until the zone is set up and functioning properly, which means everything in its place and to her liking.

Her and grandma, securely ensconced in the zone, make a mermaid out of stickers and crayons. The mermaid has glasses, tattoos, and yellow skin. When finished, the mermaid is shown around proudly to the other members of the family who clap, praise, and generally carry on in a manner that would be overkill for the debut of the Sistine Chapel. The grand praise is, however, expected whenever a new project is revealed, and there are many. During the project showing, the computer catches her eye again and it is full circle back to the old machine where she announces “type” and begins to work at the keyboard with a ferocity that only a college freshman whose paper is three days late can match.

And so it goes with Felice. I swear the only thing that I can imagine coming close to the energy of a two year old child is a small, contained, nuclear reaction. Every visit is an adventure and a gift. What a pleasure it is to see a human being take shape and become her own special person. I know Dez and I feel privileged to be a part of it and are blessed, if tired and worn out, that we can share in the miracle that is this amazing little human being.

“Bye Grandpa” she says as she gets her coat on for the short drive home. She makes the phone signal with her little hand, pinky and thumb extended like a receiver, puts it to her ear and announces “call me, we’ll talk.”

She and dad leave in a flurry of bags, toys, dinner for mom, and kisses. When they are gone, Dez and I stand in the midst of the flotsam of the visit. The computer is on, paper is everywhere, the clothes magnets are all over the kitchen floor, crayons are scattered all over the table in the zone, story books are on the arms of every chair, Pete the Cat is propped up against the book basket in his usual place. In short, it looks as if a mini tornado has made its way through the house.

Dez surveys the damage and flops in her recliner, exclaiming “Wow. I should pick this up but I’m too tired, I’ll do it in the morning.” She has never been so happy to see her house in such complete disarray.

But now the house is quiet, eerily so. We sit in silence for a while, marveling at what just happened. Then we begin to recount the highlights of the visit. Did you see……she is so funny….and smart….how did you like the new shoes…….wow, what a kid.

And at the end of the evening, I know we both thank the heavens that she came into our lives and has “rocketed” us into a new dimension of family, the grandparent zone. God bless you little one and may you always be “in the zone”. See you next time. Until then, call me we’ll talk.

Sage