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Just
another random story from a moment in our lives that I really enjoyed.
It was a busy weekend, Cheryl was on her once-a-year overnight get
together with her group of life-long girlfriends.
Erin, Katie and Rose were keeping me on the go, bouncing around
trying to keep up with their busy social lives.
It was a late Saturday afternoon, the winter sun had already set, I
was trying to start thinking about getting dinner ready, an unfamiliar
chore that Cheryl normally handles with little help from me.
A quick survey of the kitchen cupboard showed plenty of food but
few options for my limited cooking skills.
I made a mental note to myself to stop at the store on my way to
pick up Erin at her friends house. I
could pick up a few cook-able items, something easy like hot dogs or
pasta. I looked across our
red tile counter onto the family room.
Katie and Rose were involved in some intricate game of equal parts
dress-up, building stuff out of couch cushions and singing and dancing.
Whatever it was it was lots of fun.
They both lived for those opportunities to completely submerge
themselves, to be fully absorbed in play.
“Kate,
I’m going to pick up Erin at Casey’s.
I’ll be right back.”
“OK,
see ya.” Kate called. At 11
years old, she was up for short baby-sitting stints with 4-year-old
sister.
“Bye,
Kate, Bye Rose,”
“Bye,
Daddy;” Rose yelled.
Both
of them barely missed a beat, they were right back into their imaginary
world. Rich moments of fun made richer with every layer of
imagination they added. As I
pulled through the center of town, I had a passing thought, Cheryl’s
enjoying a much-deserved overnight with her friends.
My watching the kids for 24 hours was helping to make it possible.
I thought, I can handle this, now, pretty easily.
I realized that’s not how I felt last year.
The fallout from the car accident and Rose’s return to the PICU
had caught us all off guard and hit us hard.
All of us were more much more hurt than we first realized. Our
faith in the promise of each day was shaken. Recovery was slow and
sometimes difficult but it did come.
Our family life now was so much better. We were so much better.
I was so much better. The
difference was noticeable and affirming.
My
cell phone rang,
“Hey,
Dad.”
“Yeah. Hi, Kate. What is it?”
“I
forgot, the Rogavich’s said they were going to pick me up between 4:30
and 5:00 and it’s twenty to five now.
They could stop by any minute, while you’re gone.”
Katie
relayed her urgency in her usual rapid-fire speech.
I thought back to a request from her earlier in the afternoon,
delivered at the same breathless pace,
“Dad-Elena-called-she-said-her-parents-are-taking-her-shopping-and-can-I-go?
Can I please!!!” Katie often speaks with a hyphenated-exclamation-pointed
sense of urgency.
I
remember not even hesitating; of course she could go. I could juggle the
demands of the kids on a Saturday afternoon.
The brief conversation came back to me as Katie threw this new
problem at me.
“I
can’t watch Rose and go. What do I do?”
Briefly
an image flashed in my mind, Elena and her parents sitting patiently in
our family room as Pepper, our Siberian Husky repeatedly jumped on them
while I drove across town another ten minutes to pick up Erin and then
stopped at the store for dinner. He’s
playful in a friendly sort of way that is actually usually too friendly
and too playfully. They were dog people but this would be asking too much.
I thought about if for a second and then came up with a solution.
“I’ll
come back and pick up Rose. She
can go with me to pick up Erin. You
can wait for the Rogavich’s. OK?”
“OK,
thanks Dad.”
I
have to admit I was a little too smug with myself as I circled back
through the center of town, thinking I was imagining the true balance of
the demands of three very different girls.
All that came to a literally screaming halt when I opened the side
door to our house. Rose was
crying inconsolably, like only a four-year-old who is being deprived of
something precious has the strength and determination to do,
“Hi,
Dad, thanks.” Kate yelled over the din.
Playing with Rose was fun but nothing could compete with a chance
to go shopping. I knelt in front of Rose, trying to calm her and persuade her
that time with Dad would be almost as much fun.
“Rose,
it’ll be fun, you can go with me to pick up Erin at Casey’s house.”
Apparently,
this didn’t even register on the fun-o-meter, especially when compared
to an afternoon spent playing in the imaginary world that she and Katie
had been sharing. Rose cried
on, hoping to wear me down, but I refused, somewhat disheartened by the
turn of events. She continued to protest as I helped her into her bright
orange and green winter coat. The
forced tears continued through the short walk back out to the van and the
ride out to pick up Erin. I
tried throwing suggestions at Rose, along the way, hoping to hit on
something that would catch her interest and make up for the missed fun
with Katie.
“Rose,
we can read some books when we get back home.”
Cuddling
with dad on the couch reading didn’t rate.
She cried on only stopping momentarily to insist, “Home! Go Home
Now!!!” Rose continued to
make her case as she sat in her car seat just behind me.
The car was dark after the early winter sunset.
In the low light, I couldn’t catch Rose’s signs in the rear
view mirror. I could only
imagine her gestures, the definitive two hands pumping down hard to
emphasize the NOW!!! But her spoken words came through clear.
Rose’s speaking abilities have taken a major leap forward through
this year at pre-school. She
still has a ways to go with b’s and p’s and l’s and sh’s and a few
other sounds but her speech has improved tremendously and she was using it
to her full advantage.
“Rose,
do you want to play a game when we get home?
Play Candy Land? Play Bugs Dominos?”
“Noooo!!!!
Go Home Now!!!!
“How
about play on the computer?”
“Noooo!!!!”
I
was desperate. A short car ride can feel like a marathon with a
four-year-old in full pout mode in the back seat.
I searched my memory for something that would win Rose over and
then I remembered again that I needed to do grocery shopping.
It was more like free-association then a well thought our plan with
any real promise for success. It
popped into my head as something I had to do.
“Rose,
do you want to go shopping?”
Rose
quieted for a moment and then said, “Go nn-dd-nn?”
The word “shopping” is full of hard to say sounds but I knew
exactly what she meant. Just
like, as a young child, we understood her approximated signs, now we could
most times understand her through the missing holes of her speech.
I knew that Rose was using “nn-dd-nn” as a space
holder/substitute for the unpronounceable “shopping.”
I let her go on it. Now
wasn’t the time to push her on using correct pronunciation.
“Yes,
Rose. Go shopping. I need to pick up some food for dinner.”
Rose’s
mood completely turned around. Her
frequent shopping trips to our neighborhood grocery store with her mom
were a fun time for her. The chance to be involved with and help with a
chore brought her immense satisfaction.
Unknowingly, I had stumbled across the one thing that, on this day,
she might enjoy more than playing with Katie in their imaginary world.
“I’ll
help you.” Rose said.
Actually she sounded more like “I-hep-you” but I clearly
understood her meaning and appreciated her newfound enthusiasm.
“Yeah,
Rose, That would be great. I
would love to have you help me.”
So
Rose, and I, were both in considerably better moods when we pulled into
Erin’s friends driveway moments later. Erin climbed into the car and sat
in the front seat next to me, the better to position herself for control
of that valuable resource, the car radio.
“Hi,
Dad. Hi, Rose.” She started
punching the buttons, scanning through the stations, bumping up the volume
between each music sound bite.
“Go
nn-dd-nn, Ehn?”, Rose asked over the music.
“What’s
that Rose?” OK, nn-dd-nn is much easier to understand in the context of
a conversation. It’s tough
to have it thrown at you out the blue.
“Shopping,
we’re going food shopping for dinner.”
I said.
“Go
nn-dd-nn?” Rose asked again.
“Oh,
no thank you Rose. That’s
OK. You and Daddy can go.
Dad, can you drop me off at home?”
“Oh,
sure, no problem.” We live
just around the corner, two blocks from the store and it was no surprise
that about the most fun thing in the world for a four year old held little
interest for a fifteen year old.
“Hey,
what do you want for dinner?”
“Uhm…
hmm… how about a Boca burger?”
“Bocca
Burger? Sure, I guess so.”
Erin
was still firm in her no red meat diet, her conviction not wavering once
in the more then a year since she had read ‘Fast Food Nation.’
And I certainly knew what Boca Burgers were, I had seen them on the
dinner table and ever occasionally in the bottom of our freezer, but
finding them in a grocery store was an entirely different story.
I mean, I have trouble finding my own shoes at the bottom of my own
closet.
“Uh,
sure, Boca Burgers”
“I-hep-you.”
“Thanks,
Rose. Hey, what do you want to eat?”
“Meat-a-ball
‘n pasta!” The extra
syllable is something Rose consistently throws in.
We think it might be to help with the t-on-the-end-of-a-word sound
and we’re pretty sure she’s not trying to effect on Italian accent.
This was one of Rose’s favorite foods and one that I was not only
capable of finding in the store but also cooking.
“OK,
I’ll have meat balls and pasta with you.”
Rose
and I dropped Erin off at home and headed back to the store.
Rose kept her enthusiasm up as we walked hand in hand across the
parking lot and into the store. The
entry way was crowded with a stack of small blue shopping baskets and,
Rose’s favorite means of traveling the store aisles, the shopping cart
shaped like a red fire truck. Now
what four-year-old wouldn’t want to shop in style in their very own red
plastic re-creation of a fire truck, complete with seating and steering
for two, your own personal door and everything on all the bottom shelves
for your viewing and grabbing pleasure? And, oh yeah, there’s some kind
of big basket on the back for mom or dad to put a few things in.
I dreaded the idea of pushing this near parade-size-float around
the store to just pick up a few things for dinner.
Maybe the near limitless patience I held felt earlier was fading a
bit. I fell back on a
strategy that has almost always worked well to direct Rose; involve her in
the task at hand include her as much as possible to keep her focused.
I grabbed a blue plastic shopping basket and offered Rose one of
the slim wire handles.
“Hey,
Rose, can you help me carry this?”
“Sure,
Dad.” She grabbed the handle and we walked together into the produce
section with the basket hanging between us.
Thankfully the fire truck cart was never mentioned.
“OK,
Rose, we need a few apples. Let’s
go right here.”
We
stepped in front of counter high apple bin and put our basket on the
floor. I reached for a clear
plastic produce bag.
“Rose,
we need some apples. Do you
want to pick them out? Let’s
get four apples. Can you pick
out four apples?” Rose was
as the counter, her hands grabbing the edge, pulling herself up on to her
tip toes to get a better look at the selection.
“Sure,
Dad.”
Rose
settled back on her feet as I opened the plastic bag in front of her.
I’m thinking to myself, ‘we’ll have a nice little counting
lesson here,’ as Rose stretched one hand into the apple bin to grab a
nice, large green Granny Smith Apple.
As I counted, “one!” Rose pivoted and slammed the apple into
the bag with authority. The
force of the apple hitting the bottom of the bag easily ripped it out of
both of my hands. As bag and apple careened across the linoleum floor I had
mixed feelings, while I was a little embarrassed about chasing an apple
that I should have held on to, I was more than pleasantly surprised and
proud of Rose’s strength and athleticism.
I’m not sure what Rose thought of my dropped apple but, better
prepared now I was able to hold onto, “Two!” “Three!” and
“Four!”
I
was tying off the bag and dropping it into the basket when I thought out
loud.
“Bocca
Burger. Erin wants Boca
Burgers, I wonder where they are?”
The
truth is I can only find about ten items quickly and easily in the store.
Anything else requires use of my limited searching abilities and
that goes back to the shoes-at-the-bottom-of-the-closet thing.
Never mind what I go through when they rearrange the store every
few years. Boca Burgers?
Were those in some special vegetarian frozen food section?
When I stopped to pick up the basket Rose took off running down the
aisle.
“Hey,
Rose, you have to help me carry the basket.
Come on back!”
But
she didn’t come back. She
ran almost to the end of the aisle and stopped about two thirds of the way
down a large multiple glass door freezer.
She seemed to almost stand at attention staring into the freezer,
occasionally glancing back to check on my progress.
“Hey,
Rose, let’s stay together, OK?” I corrected when I caught up.
I
glanced at the freezer; frozen meats, apparently thousands of types of
breakfast sausage, hamburgers and various types of Italian dinners.
“OK,
maybe something’s here.” I was overwhelmed by the number of packages,
five packed shelves across fifteen feet of freezer presents almost an
infinite number of place for Boca burgers to hide and they are all in
square boxes about the same size and about the same color red.
“OK,
let’s take a look.” I
resigned myself to a slow search, first this freezer unit, then the next
one, then the next one. There
can’t be more than twenty in the whole store.
I went back to the beginning and started to scan up and down each
of the five shelves, making slow progress but hoping to be thorough and
not have to go through the store twice.
Rose stood patiently, holding her position as I methodically and
stubbornly scanned each package. I
had honestly make no special notice of the significance of her position
but after a few minutes I did interrupt my search to comment on how much I
appreciated how patient she was being.
I took a few steps across the gulf of thousands of red packages yet
to be searched to tell her. I
knelt next to her, at her eye level.
Before I spoke, Rose glanced at me and then back to the freezer.
I followed her eyes, and, of course, there was the red package,
among all the thousands of red packages, of THE BOCA BURGERS!!!
“Hey,
Rose! There they are! Great! Hey,
thanks! That’s great!” I was overwhelmed with gratitude. My search was over.
In
hind sight I do wonder why Rose just didn’t say, “Hey, right here,
Dad” All words she knows and used on a regular basis and a concept she
obviously clearly understands. I
think it may have been a combination of too much kindness and patience on
her part and an inability to communicate clearly on my part.
I think Rose must have thought I was looking for something else and
that I would get back to the Boca Burgers soon or maybe she thought it
was a game of some kind. Anyway,
I guess I should also be grateful she’s such a nice kid and went easy on
me. I’m just glad she didn’t pound on the glass to interrupt my
painstakingly slow search and yell, “Hey!!!
Dad!!! Right Here!!! Come On!!! Today!!! Let’s go!”
All words and signs and concepts she knows.
And I would have deserved it, too.
She’s four-years-old and she’s a better shopper than me. I can accept that.
We
breezed through the rest of the shopping trip.
I realized I wasn’t shopping while taking Rose along for her
amusement; I was shopping with Rose.
We were a team and we worked together.
The frozen meat balls, of course, weren’t very far from the Boca
Burgers. But sometimes I found things, too, like the pasta but we
still worked as a team.
“Rose,
can you go reach that box of pasta?”
“Oh,
sure, Dad!”
“Put
it in the basket.”
Rose
stretched, grabbed the box with one hand, spun, took a quick side step,
reached the box high and slammed it into the basket with authority.
“Good
Shot! Thanks, Rose.”
“I
hep you!”
“Yes,
you do.”
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