She is the fourth in a family of five and shall be five years old in September.
It was her “turn” to come and visit Pappy and the pool and the candy store and– oh yes– the home made ice-cream shop.
We have incentives here at Chez Pappy besides the ol’girl herself.
She brought her Polly Pocket miniature plastic “dolls” (if dolls that look like showgirls can be called “dolls”) but she was quick to tell me, “I brought the ones with clothes, Pappy.” When I play with these fashionistas at her house, they are often in bathing suits or skirts that go up to their waist. Pappy has been known to grumble about Polly Pockets shameful lack of attire and insistent state of blondeness. She couldn’t bring any brunettes because there aren’t any period case closed. There is a strawberry blonde, however. When we play with them, she’ll often start the play by picking dolls (she picks first because she’s the boss) and after I pick mine, she’ll begin their dialogue by saying, “You are beautiful” to my doll.
My grumbling begins.
“I’m more than just a pretty face, you know,” I say back to her through my mini-skirted call-girl . “I’ve had hard times. That’s why I can’t afford dresses that go to the knee.”
She looks at me as in the above photo. If I was holding a steaming turd, I swear to you she’d look the same way at me. “What is your problem, Pappy?” as if ‘ I just told you were beautiful. What else do you want in life?”
So, I’m not exactly totally malleable as you can see. I need additional “visiting-incentives”.
The pool comes with occasional frogs and at least one mouse (see my You Tube movie if you simply have to see for yourself) and that totally makes up for my limitations as a play mate. I also do not grumble in the water.
At the ice cream place, I let her get a “cone” instead of a dish which of course no parent in their right mind would do as it is a guaranteed waste of the ice cream as it either falls directly to the ground as it is waved around while telling a story or melts in the July heat before three licks.
But, where I shine is as a flower and “omato” grower. She likes to pick those “omatoes” and water the always thirsty flowers and her favorite vegetable is the Brussel Sprout plant which she pats like a dog but would not eat even if I held her Polly Pockets as ransom.
She watched me eat my braised Swiss Chard for dinner while holding her nose. She didn’t like the smell as I’d braised the dark leafy fronds in garlic. She has a very sensitive nose and could be used as canary in the mine if the world could afford to lose her which it most definitely can not so I just got up and took my dinner into my bedroom because she couldn’t eat her dinner of nuggets and noodles with one hand clamped on her nose.
She has popular songs running in her head 24/7. Currently, she is singing a song by “Train” and a “Taylor Swift” song. How do I know? The lady in the next booth to ours at breakfast complimented her on her choice of songs as we got up to leave. She said they were her favorite songs, too. So, I asked her who sang them as I had no idea.
On the way home, we listened to some Beethoven and she seemed quiet and dreamy. As soon as I turned it off, her singing soundtrack started up, “She doesn’t get you like I do”. La la la.
She asked me to put the radio to KISS 108 which on my dial is 107.9. I grumbled. If the station is 108 why is it 107.9 for God’s sake and on an on.
Immediately, she started singing along to another song. Except this time, I knew the song as her twelve year old sister had pointed out this song a few weeks back on our return ride home from her visit. It is by Rhianna and Enimem. The words include “I love your lies” and “don’t mind if you tie me to a bed.”
Whaat? Well, you can imagine Pappy’s reaction.
I went off like a heat-seeking missile to her twelve year old sister who just laughed and laughed and waited till I had crashed and burned (tangent wise not driving wise), calmed down, and then said, “Yeah, but don’t you think she’s got a good voice, Pappy?”
So, as I listened to the four almost five year old singing every blasted word of this song, I held my nose in Pappy Protest.
I can drive with one hand on the wheel.
©Pat Coakley 2010
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