The Way Things Should Be
Thunder, subtle lightning, a little rain – home sweet sweet home.
Taking on the responsibility of “Big Brother” to a newborn fresh out of the hospital is one thing. The baby sleeps 75% of the day, after all. There’s not much necessary interaction. Shouldering that responsibility to an active two year-old when you’re used to the high life of only child-ness for eight years, is a completely different ball game. And so far – 48 hours into this experiment – things were going well.
“Yali, you’ll never learn how to put on your shoes if I keep putting them on for you. What if you’re out in the wilderness? You’ll need your shoes.”
Puck has already mastered the art of a solid lecture. Yali may not understand 95% of the instructions, but I think he gets the tone and gist. His response is almost universally an enormous dimple-popping smile.
It was time to incorporate the larger extension of the family. Church was out of the question for starters. As recommended by the adoption agency, a crowd that big – even from a reserved distance – might be more confusing than helpful. So we gave it one more week.
The gang was all gathered as usual at the Big House. Mom and Dad were just waking up from their Sunday afternoon nap. Carrie-Bri had the ballgame rolling on her laptop. Joe and Jaya’s Sunday laundry was in the wash. Rose presented Joe with a stuffed buffalo from her Grand Tetons/Yellowstone vacation. I think Francis was asleep in the basement. And Linnea-Irish had extracted herself from her room for the occasion.
It can’t be helped – having a new kid introduced to the family, a kid that’s not wrapped up like a burrito, eyes shut tight, and liable to begin wailing any second, is sort of like watching the circus. You never know what he’s going to do next. So we sort of just sat around for awhile watching a tiny two year-old with a mop of unruly black hair in Cardinals apparel jump around, throw toys, and laugh at his aunts and uncles. All we needed was popcorn.
There were also gifts: coffee for Joe (who is almost the only coffee drinker on my side of the family), a Colombia ball cap for Francis, candies for Dad, and jewelry for the ladies (South American style skulls for Linnea and angel bells for everyone else). Then gifts for the boys from Joe and Jaya: swimming goggles and water torpedos for Puck, shiny blue soccer ball for Yali. Perfect.
After awhile everyone migrated down the road to the neighbor’s house – still vacationing in Europe – for a swim. Pizzas. “Gilligan’s Island”. 18 horrible innings of ballgame downtown. Sundays at their best.