Jake arrived to spend some time with me last Wednesday while his big brother was off to have his stitches removed. Jake's the little guy in my header with the afghan backdrop. He announced, as he was taking off his coat and hanging it up, that his mother's grandmother had passed away. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I do believe that happened some time past, as in years and years ago. I told him that I was sorry to hear this news and asked if he knew his great-grandmother's name. He thought for a moment and said, "Her name was Bar*ck Ob*ma." Ha! What a hoot that child is. I later learned that her name was Barbara. Yes, I can see how he got a little confused...lots of "B"s and "a"s and plenty of syllables.
Later, while on the sofa, he had his pudgy little fingers poked through the holes in the afghan. I mentioned something about this activity and he looked me right in the eye and said rather accusingly, "This is a fake blanket." Yes, Jake, I have thought so a few times myself when wishing for a sofa nap and a warm blanket and while feeling a draft.
During snack time, he refused to drink the apple juice I'd purchased for him in the individual box containers. He wasn't raising a fuss; he just wasn't enjoying it as
he usually would. After a bit, I asked him why he didn't drink it. No response. Finally, I asked "What's wrong with it?"
"It tastes awful." Ahhh, so now I knew.
His mother speculates that he can taste the carton and I'd not be surprised.
I had switched to the individual cartons because a few weeks ago I had served Jake some fermented white grape juice. (Sam prefers milk.) Jake chugged two juice glasses full without saying a word. It seemed as if the bottle had only recently been opened, but no, it had gone too long. Acccckkkk! Well, Jake did have a perfectly delightful and somewhat subdued afternoon and has not, as far as I know, had any lingering affects other than thinking, you know, that his great-grandmother is Bar*ck Ob*ma.
Have you ever done anything this terrible to your grands?
