Nana visits Samuel

 

 

Wikipedia

Samuel stared through the bars of the playpen as he groaned at just another incarceration.  What had he done?  Just the usual stuff, but this time?  

First, he had coughed up a ball of green-yellow phlegm, and spit it on a really old carpet beyond the bars, one that had been in great-grandma's house.  Heh, heh, heh. Then, Samuel had been charged with screaming loudly, marking graffiti on public walls in a diaper medium, and randomly destroying stuff. Good times.

But last one? It was epic.  With just a plastic knife, Samuel had repeatedly stabbed the arm of the couch, tossing foam and stuffing wherever they fell.  It did not end well. 

It was a reach for him, Samuel realized.  "Keep it simple" he reminded himself. Next time.

Samuel then realized that his diaper was beyond damp, and had begun  dripping.  With strong lungs only a two year-old toddler possesses, Samuel cried and sobbed. Mommy, mommy!  Sometimes being one who is not-yet-potty-trained is a blessing.  

A lot is forgiven when a diaper is full. 

This a post from 2014, using words from Wednesday Words. As always, great fun was had by all.

 

 

Samuel and the Aftermath

Source

It was Nana who rounded all the children up, and took them to the deck.  The whole flock of three-year olds plopped down and waited with serious eyes.  Soon they would be whisked away to be cleaned up and taken home for their naps.

The pitchers of Sangria had been drained dry, causing some of the mothers to stagger as they wiped down the cake mess.  Nana put on some coffee and started force-feeding the women with extra caffeine.

Samuel sat off to the side with his crew.  To look at them, no one would know that this was all their doing.  That all the destruction, the soiled and busted bouncing castle, and the run-away pony—all was accomplished with those four children.

Samuel felt an inner glow that always came after a successful venture, the sense that all was well with the world. Such a great day, the best birthday yet!  Everything, all of it!  Man.  I wish we could do it all over.

Then Nana took him by the hand and led him to his bedroom.  They sat down on his ‘big boy’ bed, and Nana looked Samuel straight in the eyes.  She held his eyes with her own until Samuel felt the glow shrivel, the pride shut down.

“Samuel.  Did you even think about what would happen to the pony?  To the young man who loves him?  Did you wonder about that boy Jason who had to go into the ‘castle’ to save all your little friends?  What if he had not done that?”

Samuel’s eyes grew big and he blinked big earnest tears.  I..no, well…I didn’t know…  Nana’s words hit him harder than any hand could.

“Think about those two young men, what they have to do now.”  Nana stood up and took off Samuel’s shoes, getting ready for a nap. She led him to the toilet where he could pee.  After all, Samuel had not been in the castle.

Later, his bed was a silent sepulcher for Samuel: stone cold and devoid of any happy thought at all. What will I do now?  Now that I know about other people, and actually care?  What can I do?

To read about Samuel's third birthday, go to this link:
Uncle Marvin tells what he saw 

What do you think Samuel will do now?  How will he deal with this conflict of conscience and talent for destruction?  After all, the very essence of Samuel is at stake!

Samuel's Third Birthday: Uncle Marvin Tells All

Source--let the inner animal out

Comfortable in his wheel chair, Great Uncle Marvin sat under the umbrella making balloon animals for the children.  His sister, ‘Nana’ had warned him to be on the look-out for anything at all that might happen.  Samuel’s father, Nathan had been a holy terror and Uncle Marvin had helped corral Little Nate many times.  Yup, Marvin was there, and looking forward to watching Samuel and his little friends.

When asked later about what happened and when, Marvin leaned back in his wheelchair and began.  “Well, I tell ya….Nothin’ was a-tal strange.  Those kids were running and screaming from one thing to ‘nother.  I made lots of crowns for the little girls, swords for those boys.  Nope, that was all goin’ just fine.”

Uncle Marvin chuckled, “Ya know, it started with the little girls and their high-pitched screaming.  Had to turn my hearing aid down.  They was running in a big clump from one end to ‘other, screaming like nobody’s biz’ness.  That one girl, Clarisse, oh Lordy! She has a mighty set of lungs.”

“Then the boys, they all headed to the jumpy house thing, that castle.  They was jumpin’ for all they’s worth.  Then they got it rockin’ side to side.  That was when some of those patches blew, and the air hissed out.”

That young man, Jason, well, he jumped into the castle and started pulling and throwin’ all those little boys out.  Then he came out holding a diaper at arms’ length.  And, it was one loaded diaper, too. Said something about the boys had been peeing all over the inside.  That Jason, he started gagging, but he got his two helpers to unplug the fan and start deflating the castle thing.”

Samuel and Jason: The bouncing Castle

Oh, boy! The bouncing castle!

“Zach and Son” was a big dream for Zach, but not for “Son”. 

Zach Jensen had cashed in on the ‘bouncing castle’ craze that hit in the 1990s.  He bought one, then two, and finally three ‘bouncing castles’.

His son Jason was a baby when Zach was chasing birthday parties, Bar Mitzvahs, and street fairs with his bouncing castles.  Jason had gazed with awe and knew that someday, he would be bouncing with the castles and his dad.

Well, that day had come.  Jason had just graduated from high school, and it wasn’t a moment too soon for Zach. 

From three castles, Zach had one lonely and very tired, patched together bouncing castle left.

Zach had had to lay off the guys who had planned to expand on the business with ‘Son’.  Now, it was just an ailing Zach, whose back was crumbling with something called stenosis.

Jason, the ‘Son’ part of the formula, was Zach’s hope for a come-back.

“It’s just a birthday party for a bunch of three-year olds, kid.  Easy set-up, bunch of light weight kids.  This old castle can handle one more party…” Zach had promised as Jason loaded up to head over to the party.

Zach lay in the recliner with a back brace strapping the back bones together.  “And, then we can look at the new models…take a loan out…buy bigger…”

By then, Jason was already slamming the front door.  ‘One more party? I sure hope it is just one more…don’t think I can take anymore…’

Then came Samuel.

Samuel meets Cowboy Bob

Dreams

When Robert Lewis Sherman was a child with wide-open eyes, he knew this: He would be a cowboy named “Cheyenne”, spit whenever he felt like it, and wear a Stetson low on his brow.  He would gnaw on a tooth-pick, kick doors open, and drink strong bitter coffee.

When he turned 21, his eyes were mere slits and he trusted no one, believed in no one, and growled at everyone.  Robert “Bad Man” graduated from Berkeley with great expectations.

Now Robert “Loner” Sherman worked at a Wal-Mart at the Optical department where he was an optometrist, a surprise to his family and especially to himself.  

The only connection he had now to his cowboy dream was a pony named “Shaggy” he had adopted and kept stabled at a nearby ranch.  

 His Saturdays were spent in two ways:  grooming Shaggy, and/or making extra cash at kids’ birthday parties as “Cowboy Bob” with his wily pony whose stage name was “Thunder”. 

Oddly, those were the happiest hours of his endlessly mind-numbing days.

Then came Samuel and his damned third birthday…

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 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.