Wild Kingdom

A variety of interesting wildlife visited our house this weekend. They were all encased in the shape of a little blond boy with huge blue eyes and a gap-toothed smile that can melt your heart in an instant. Our grandson. Or, as he is more commonly known, super pancake boy.

You know those river otters that eat 20% of their weight in food every day? Well, I'm proud to say we have our own little river otter. That boy can eat more pancakes than I can. And if I don't keep 'em coming, he emits an ear-piercing howl like a wild hyena. HURRY UP! I'M STARVING HERE! When he finishes breakfast, his belly is as tight and smooth as an African drum. An African drum that is full of pancakes.

Liz brought him over a little earlier than planned for his overnight visit and I was out of town, having lunch and shopping with my mom. So, grandaddy had to take over. He is not used to keeping him when I am not there, but he stepped up to the plate and did an annoyingly great job. Except for the one diaper incident. He had it fastened on perfectly and tightly - backward. I kind of thought when I arrived, he would be weeping and have his hands buried in his hair, going "Oh, my God, woman, thank the good Lord you have arrived. I just can't manage him without you. HOW DO YOU DO IT?" But I got no such satisfaction. When I arrived, he was sitting in the middle of the floor, in the midst of pandemonium, looking just a little bit tired. Wes had every toy he owned strewn in the family room and kitchen and was happily playing with the kitchen towels, draping them on his head, like a happy little chimpanzee.

The birds arrived in the night. He went to bed and to sleep beautifully, but at about 10:00 while we were downstairs watching tv, the nursery monitor began to broadcast a sound not unlike that of a loon. Aaaa-ooooohhhh. Aaaaa-ooohhh. And this was obviously coming from between teeth clenched around a pacifier. It didn't stop so we got him up, changed his diaper and rocked him a little bit. This is one of the very few times where he is actually relaxed, curled in your arms, head on your shoulder like a furry little marmoset. It's lovely.

He went back to bed and we slept very well until about 4:30. When the nursery monitor in the bedroom indicated there was an owl in his room. Hoo. Hoo. Hoo. Hoo. Hooooooooooo. Again, the sound came through clenched teeth. The last time he slept over, I actually got him up at 4:30 when he woke up because, well, I'm his Mimi and I thought he was ready to get up. And because, basically, he rules our lives. I admit it. I am not ashamed. This time, I decided to wait it out. He never really cried. Just hooted for a few minutes. Then went back to sleep until 7:00 when we both got up with no problem.

I have a mobile over his crib, hanging from the ceiling so he can't reach it. It's bright colored stars and moons made of ceramic. He never seems to notice it until I pick him up, then he wants to touch it and make it move. Like a raven attracted to something bright and shiny, he insists on touching it when he is picked up. And I let him. Why not? He likes it. Refer to above paragraph to explain why.

He's asleep now, taking a morning nap after a morning spent ransacking the place like a rampaging tiger. I just checked on him. He's completely relaxed, his hair ruffled from play, cheeks pink, lips slightly parted. He's an angel. Or maybe a hibernating bear cub. I expect he will wake up at any time and demand a huge snack, like the aforementioned bear waking up from a long winter's sleep.

The menagerie is a lot of work. But we enjoy the menagerie. They can come over any time.