On the way home sitting in his
car seat he announced that “doclat” ice cream was really good for his “domach.”
That was the only thing that afternoon that he and I actually agreed on.
Whether it was his plate versus bowl, which spoon he wanted, how he was going
to eat his chicken and potatoes, we kept having a difference of opinion.
Finally it was time for chocolate ice cream, I looked high and he looked low
but we kept coming up empty. I told him I could make him chocolate ice cream and
proceeded to mix tin roof sundae ice cream with Hershey's syrup. That did
nothing to improve his attitude, he looked at it and said “you eat it,” went
out to the back porch and searched the freezer again. He came into the kitchen
and proudly displayed the carton of chocolate ice cream.
Now my disposition took a
downward spiral. I was being outwitted by a three year old. After we finished
our ice cream his mother arrived with his three siblings. Every five minutes
they would ask, “Is it time to feed calves yet.” Finally, about half an hour
before the appointed time, I decided it was “better to dwell in the calf barn,
than in a farm house with three whining children”, so we loaded the baby into
the stroller and off we went. As I stood
out there watching the three year old terrorize the cats, the five year old
walk around questioning everything that was out of place, and the six year old
mimic the way I start the feeding process, my attitude continued to worsen.
Then my mother-in-law arrived with a spring in her step and in a cheerful voice
said, “Oh we have lots of helpers today.” And I in a less than charitable voice
mumbled, “This is not my idea of fun!” She chuckled and went on her way. But I
was immediately stricken with guilt. This WAS my idea of fun. This is what I
had looked forward to for many years.
As I looked at the children again, I saw them making memories with their grandma and great grandma. I saw a nine month old with arms and legs waving with anticipation, and a gleam in her eye, as she visualized herself following in her big brothers footsteps..terrorizing cats. This grumpy old grandma was begrudging them the one thing they had looked forward to all afternoon. Thankfully they didn’t pick up on my rotten attitude so I hadn’t ruined their afternoon, but I came mighty close to it. I wish I could say I learned my lesson, that I never have uncharitable thoughts when I have too many little hands helping me feed calves, or trying to help me in the kitchen, but this grandma continues to battle with impatience and has to be reminded daily to look for blessings in disguise.
4/30/2012
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