Beating the Heat

    This Sunday past was the day for the little fellers.  Baby Boy and Giddy-up came to spend the afternoon.  They had a couple of requests.  Baby Boy wanted to fish with Pap, and make ravioli over the fire like the last time. Giddy-up wanted an outside tea party.  The heat index Sunday was 105 degrees, so some adjustment was needed, ahem, for the Gramerly that is.

They did get to go fishing and Pap said they were good luck, as that is the most fish he's caught at our little local lake.  Rae brought Giddy-up and helped oversee the experience.

As soon as they were back, we headed to the creek. 

 This will be the summer of the perfect creek.  Though great fun last Tuesday,  the water was murky and moving too fast for my comfort with the littles.  Sunday, it was still moving, but crystal clear and low.  I had grabbed some clearance innertubes and the boys were in seventh heaven.  It was certainly the coolest place to be in more than one way.  I walked to one end and Rae to the other and just turned them loose.

 Rocky Raccoon had beat us there.

 This washed up in the rain and Rae determined it could be the creek's guardian angel.  Let me say represent, as we certainly believe the Holy Spirit has guarded us, but of course place no value on a concrete shape, except for fun.

 In fact, it was so perfect, I ended up calling Ceece and Ol' Mother Hubbard to bring the kids to join the joy of perfect creekdom.
The creek train coming through.

 I had to break the bad news to my boys that the heat and mosquitoes were not conducive to either a fire or an outside tea party.  So our Ravioli Tea happened in the kitchen and was just as enjoyed.

 All that pouring and sugar cubes, oh my.

This tea set has appeared here before and was a sweet reminder of an old friendship.

Lands, this has been the summer of reminiscing as well.  I've spent more hours going through things.  I've watched the way joy and laughter spill out of my aged mother as she peruses the pages of her life, then watch it turn to tears as she puts away those memories, or tries to let go of those objects.  It has been a tender, trying, heartbreaking time.

I believe I will hold to material goods more loosely than every before.  Have you heard of "transitional objects"?  When Bean was wee, he needed to take something every time he left us.  I was always fine with that and now Giddy-up is the same way.  It is so interesting to me the variety of objects he needs to take home with him.  Last week it was a bag of permanent markers.  Though Rae does not want or need one more thing, she knows this is just a developmental thing and will pass.  I did feel the need to tell my sweet boy that not everyone will be so happy with him taking something, to just forewarn him. Sometimes it is because he's just having too much fun with whatever he's playing with, but other times, at leaving time he says, "Wait, I have to find something."  He runs around, till something catches his eye and right to me he comes to ask permission. It always comes back the next time and another object is chosen.

I could definitely be accused of overdoing with my gramerlings. Is that a surprise? Ha.  I don't know why, I just love to give them freedom to be when they are with me.  It means that things get broken and too much candy and too many Popsicles are eaten.  I think I try to recreate the grandparenting that my siblings had.  Papaw was the indulgent one and being the caboose, I didn't quite get the opportunities to participate in the stories I heard.  They would put their swim suits on under their clothes and Papaw would take them "blackberry picking," only they would swim, while he picked.  My Mamaw didn't approve of swimming. She didn't approve of much actually. When Mom threatened spanking, he'd say, "I'd put that off for awhile if I were you."  We lived about three hours from them and no matter when we arrived, he would set out a treat, make popcorn, etc.  He loved to sing and tell us about Jesus. We loved him so.
I hope the ones who've been allowed to participate remember the times they floated down that creek, painted themselves from head to toe, used too many sugar cubes, dumped out lots of cornstarch powder doctoring their critters, chased a bunch of chickie girls,  and can stir up the wind in their face as we sang and sailed in that old dolphin swing.  I hope they know that Jesus, Pappy and their own wee selves were absolutely the loves of my life.