Tonight I took a piece of squaw bread, spread a thin layer of mayonnaise over it, then added two overlapping slices of deli-sliced Havarti cheese. I placed the sandwich as per ordered on a plate and slid it across the counter to my five year old grandson. He turned outward from the snack bar where a clever and rambunctious semi-puppy knocked the sandwich out of his hands. Fortunately the cheese and bread separated--cheese flying forward, bread gobbled up instantaneously, me swooping to save the cheese.
Which I then placed upon a new piece of squaw bread, mayo spread thin, and the last half piece of cheese upon it, on his plate. Seconds later we were duped again by a sly dog who nabbed the entire cheese sandwich. This time, not even a flying piece of cheese to save. An expensive piece of cheese that is.
"Would you like some grapes?"
Yes, he decided to have grapes.
Why oh why does my daughter put up wth this dog?
I reminisce the expanse of inviting green lawn. I used to stretch out in it with with a pomegranate, two toddlers anxiously waiting for me to separate the tart juicy seeds from the bitter rind. Then I'd watch them roll, tumble, and wrestle on the soft bed.
I used to pick cherry tomatoes from her garden. Now the lawn is a minefield and the dog keeps digging up the dirt in the garden. My daughter doesn't think she'll be able to plant.
After scrubbing the dirty paw prints, restoring the patio to its clean concrete, a half hour later, the pots into which I'd swept the loose dirt, the dirt and more dirt had been re-dumped onto the patio. It was again stamped in chocolate.
I look around at her white dining room chairs. The beautiful green chaise I once admired. Each piece of furniture distinctly stained. The chairs can be cleaned, the chaise recovered.
For now they will have to do as is.
But it isn't the dog whose marred the furniture. It's the children, and somehow dogs and children, they go together.
The children will stay, but why doesn't she get rid of that dog?
After picking up our teenage granddaughter to spend the night, Tony and I wait in the car while she says goodbye to her mother and siblings. She's giving her mother detailed instructions. When I remember the dog is her responsibility, the dog for which she begged and promised to take care of before her parents consented, I understand she is making sure her mother will care and feed that dog while she is away. In this moment, it is apparent the grand purpose has taken root.
Like this nuisance puppy, it takes as much patience and love to train a child.
Why doesn't my daughter get rid of that dog?
The answer is clear.
Which I then placed upon a new piece of squaw bread, mayo spread thin, and the last half piece of cheese upon it, on his plate. Seconds later we were duped again by a sly dog who nabbed the entire cheese sandwich. This time, not even a flying piece of cheese to save. An expensive piece of cheese that is.
"Would you like some grapes?"
Yes, he decided to have grapes.
Why oh why does my daughter put up wth this dog?
I reminisce the expanse of inviting green lawn. I used to stretch out in it with with a pomegranate, two toddlers anxiously waiting for me to separate the tart juicy seeds from the bitter rind. Then I'd watch them roll, tumble, and wrestle on the soft bed.
I used to pick cherry tomatoes from her garden. Now the lawn is a minefield and the dog keeps digging up the dirt in the garden. My daughter doesn't think she'll be able to plant.
After scrubbing the dirty paw prints, restoring the patio to its clean concrete, a half hour later, the pots into which I'd swept the loose dirt, the dirt and more dirt had been re-dumped onto the patio. It was again stamped in chocolate.
I look around at her white dining room chairs. The beautiful green chaise I once admired. Each piece of furniture distinctly stained. The chairs can be cleaned, the chaise recovered.
For now they will have to do as is.
But it isn't the dog whose marred the furniture. It's the children, and somehow dogs and children, they go together.
The children will stay, but why doesn't she get rid of that dog?
After picking up our teenage granddaughter to spend the night, Tony and I wait in the car while she says goodbye to her mother and siblings. She's giving her mother detailed instructions. When I remember the dog is her responsibility, the dog for which she begged and promised to take care of before her parents consented, I understand she is making sure her mother will care and feed that dog while she is away. In this moment, it is apparent the grand purpose has taken root.
Like this nuisance puppy, it takes as much patience and love to train a child.
Why doesn't my daughter get rid of that dog?
The answer is clear.
Comments