Pajamas

Pajamas

-Laurie Benson©2019

We played all day

today, while your

mommy and daddy

carried the furniture

upstairs to all the rooms

in your new house.

I moved into my childhood

house when I was about

your age.  I still remember

looking through the cinder

block fence at the neighbor.

I thought he looked like

a pirate.

I know that four-year-old

minds remember things.

I know that you will 

remember that today we

caught honeybees and wasps

for my kids to study at

school.  I taught you not

to be scared of honeybees,

and then gave you a 

honey stick which you

sucked on for about a

half of an hour, literally

all of the honey that a

bee made in its' entire

life was in that one honey

stick.  You loved it.

We pulled apart a

sunflower to see the

seeds that your daddy

likes to eat.  You tried one

and spit it out in the garden.

They weren't dry enough.

Now the head of that

giant sunflower is hanging

on the fence to dry. We'll

pull the seeds out another

day when you come to play.

Earlier, we built a Lego

truck.  I was proud because

that's something I'm not

very good at...following

directions.  You kept at it

and motivated me all the

while, appreciating the little

Lego shovel and rake, and

small garbage can full of 

colorful pieces shaped like

fish, bananas and carrots.

We made a garbage truck

in the end, and you drove

it all around on the carpet,

dreaming of the exciting

life of a garbage man.

And then the pool.  On

such a hot day, how could

we not?  We played horsie,

speed boat and shark. Lots

of sunscreen for your fair

skin, and chips to snack

on while you waited for

a bit in the shade. You're

a lot like your daddy was

when he was little. He

wasn't afraid of the water

at all, and would often

jump deep down in,

nearly swimming to the

top, by about an inch, and 

then I would save him. 

No fear, as if he could

breathe underwater.

You told me that you

couldn't sleep over because

you had no pajamas. We

solved that by going to the

store and looking for some

on clearance.  The ones you

picked are pastel striped,

pink-yellow-purple, with little

hearts on the stripes. We also

bought a Monster Truck with

a remote control. Yes, it was

a grandma moment.

I watched you play all

evening on the driveway

with the truck, crashing

it back and forth into the

curb or the brick pillar

of the house.  Then we came

in and got in the pjs that you

picked out.  You said they

were so soft that you hoped

that you could wear them

even when you were five.

Now you are asleep, the

smell of sunscreen and outdoors

in your hair.  You snore a little

bit, and the room is warm, but

you pull the blankets up tight

around your neck.  A yellow

stuffed duck sleeps by your

side, one that you have had since

the day you were born. I call him

"Grubby Ducky," and that makes

you laugh, but you love that

duck almost too much.

I realize as I walk back to

the kitchen that Monster Trucks

and rainbow striped pajamas 

don't make you a boy or a girl.

They make you a human, with

choices, likes and dislikes.

Being a grandma has allowed

me to step back a bit and not

shame you for choosing what

you like.  I like it too, because

it shows me you.

"Grammy," you said in the store,

"Don't you love rainbows?"

I said that I do love rainbows,

but I love that you love

rainbows more.