Samuel and the Fireplace

I had the source site at one time, but I can't find it...Sorry!

Since his shearing, there had been a quiet lull with Samuel. The Parents let Grammy babysit one afternoon.  Surely she could handle Samuel now.

They sat in a triangle:  Grammy on the sofa, Samuel on the floor with his Legos and beach bucket set, and Ginger the Tabby on the window ledge.  Grammy put on “Little Einsteins”, and watched the children pleading for the audience to ‘pat, pat, pat’. 

Pat! Pat! Pat! Make Rocket go!

Ginger stared at Samuel.   Go ahead, kid.  Make your move.

Samuel watched Grammy down the clear liquid with a slice of lime.  It wasn’t water, he knew.  That’s The Daddy’s Special bottle, lady.

In time, Grammy’s head drooped, just as the red rocket rose into the sky.  Samuel shook his head.  Oh, Grammy.  You are no Nana.

Samuel pondered his options.  The plant?  No.  The curtains?  No.  Then he looked at the cold fireplace.  Excellent.

Samuel took the sand bucket and shovel to the fireplace.  Oh, so much better than I thought.  He viewed the pile of ashes and the soot.

Always a hard worker, Samuel filled the bucket with the ashes.  With quiet care, he carried it to the kitchen sink where he could just barely reach.  Dumping the bucket, Samuel returned to the task. Ashes and soot marked his journeys.

Wiping his hands on the carpet, chairs, and curtains, Samuel took bucket after bucket to the sink.  It was tiring to stretch to the sink.  Samuel headed to the bathroom where the toilet was an easy reach.

Viewing the fireplace, Samuel rubbed his hands over his stubbly head.  A good job well done, young man.  He climbed up next to Grammy and kissed her face.  She snored. 

Yes, Grammy.  You are going to be in such trouble.  With that thought, Samuel decided to help the red rocket fly, ‘pat, pat, pat’.  The front door opened.

Samuel decorates for Christmas

courtesy of Bing.com



Samuel gazed out at the falling snow. It blurred the strings of bright Christmas lights along the street, an eerie but pleasing sight.

Samuel felt this blurry sensation in his being. Since seeing Santa, the man who knows everything, Samuel doubted himself. That was scary.

“Time for sleepin’, buddy!” The Daddy scooped up a compliant Samuel. Surprised at the lack of fight, The Daddy lay Samuel in the crib and then locked down the ‘tent’. “Daddy’s gonna catch some ZZZZs too.” 

He left quietly, leaving the door cracked just a bit.  Soon the ZZZZs were flying; The Daddy was out cold.

Samuel had figured out the ‘tent’ and its locking mechanism just the other day. Such a simple thing really—simple enough that adults would not notice it.

Slipping the hook up and over, Samuel silently raised the ‘tent’, and ninja-d himself over the railing. He swung down onto the carpet, and made his way to the living room where the snores were raising the roof.

He headed into the kitchen where Ginger-the-fat-tabby reclined in the travel carrier, after her encounter with the angel on the tree. They eyed each other in mutual respect. A truce had been called after the scissor incident. Later, cat. I must think some more.

Samuel continued his exploration. Next to the living room he entered the guest room where Grammy was staying. All was normal, except for her elaborate knitting bag. It was enclosed, except for four holes through which yarn could be pulled.

Peering into the interior, Samuel perceived there were four large balls of yarn. Large balls nicely wound with single strands of yarn through the holes: This had possibilities.

Pulling out one strand and then another, Samuel noted how easy this would be.  Grabbing the other strands, Samuel left the room.  Streams of red metallic, sparkling silver, shimmering gold, and forest green followed him obediently.

He walked around the house, crawling under the tables and over the chairs.  Some strands were dropped, but would be continued later around furniture legs and even the Christmas tree stand.  Quietly and methodically Samuel wove rooms together in bright Christmas cheer.  Forget the lipstick.  THIS is so much better.

All was complete.  The house was strung and tied up, a grand present just waiting to be opened.

Samuel went to the carrier where Ginger had been watching.  Cry havoc! Samuel opened the hook lock.  And release the cat of carnage!

He returned to his room, and closed the door.  He had barely climbed into the crib and locked the tent when he heard the earliest sounds.  Tucking his thumb in his mouth and pulling up his blankie, Samuel smiled sleepily.  So little time, so much that could have been done.

Samuel and Santa, 1st encounter

I know when you've been sleeping!  I know when you're awake...

The stroller raced through the Mall, with Samuel enjoying the ride.  With the revised harness, there was little else for him to do.  He had ditched a shoe back by Godiva, so he was pleased.

The Mommy came to a stop at the Mall Christmas tree, where Santa was seated on the big throne.  Without much pause, she replaced the retrieved shoe, and hoisted up the surprised Samuel.  Dang.  She’s gotten quick these days.

Samuel found himself on Santa’s lap, peering up at the jovial man with the halo of white hair and beard.  “Ho, Ho, Ho…”

At mid-Ho!, Samuel stuck his index finger up into Santa’s nostril.  Up yours, jolly old elf.

I know.  I know about....

Click, flash!  The camera captured the moment. 

Santa wrapped his gloved hand around Samuel’s and brought it down.  He’s been trained for this.  Samuel decided.

Santa bent his head down to Samuel and spoke.  “I know all about you.  I know what you did to the cat.  The scissors and all.  I know.”

Samuel grew still.  That event had not gone well for either of them.

Then Santa whispered into Samuel’s ear.  “I know about….”  

Samuel was stunned.  How could Santa know that?

Then Samuel was back in the stroller, gazing dully at Santa, who tapped his temple.  “Ho, Ho, Ho!”

Samuel and the Squirrel

Source

Looking through the kitchen sliding glass door, Samuel and the squirrel eyed each other.  Both waited for the other to blink.

Bored, the squirrel scampered off, snatching a fallen pecan for his cache of winter supplies.

Samuel sighed.  This had turned out to be a disappointing day.  The Daddy was home, and had said, “Hey, Buddy.  Daddy’s gonna do some work on the computer.  You stay put, okay?”

Stay put?  The Daddy had fixed him up with a harness that was secured around his chest, tethered to the kitchen table.

Stay put?  He could wander about six feet, and then The Daddy would say, “Buddy?”

While The Daddy killed Zombies on the computer in the dining room, Samuel gazed jealously at the squirrel that scurried around the backyard. If only, if only.

Samuel pressed his face against the glass door, watching as Ginger-the-fat-tabby soundlessly squeezed through the pet door.  It was too small for Samuel.

This is a soulless existence.  Samuel hung his head.  I cannot endure such inhumanity.  Inspired, Samuel focused his thoughts on the pet door and the squirrel. 

The Daddy’s briefcase lay open on the chair.  Phone, keys, papers—his for the taking.  ‘Buddy this, big guy!’  Samuel decided.

Samuel retrieved the cell phone and shoved it cautiously through the pet door.  The squirrel examined it.   He snatched it up, scampered up the tree, and dropped it into the chasm of winter food.

Success!  Samuel took the keys, clutching them in his moist chubby hand.  No sound.  Squirrel took them, ka-ching.

Papers?  No problem.  Flash Drive?  Easy-peasy.  Again and again, until all gifts were accepted. 

Samuel looked at the nearly empty case. My job here is done.  He lay down on the floor, giving the squirrel a sleepy smile.  Hard work is always rewarded.