More Adventures in Grandparenting!

We picked up Jacob and Dylan this morning for a day with MeeMaw and Papa. Mommy told them sternly to “behave themselves”. I told Mommy that her boys ALWAYS behave at Meemaw’s house. “Right, boys?”

“Yes, I always behave!” said Jacob.

“Not me!” said Dylan cheerfully.

Well, they’re BOTH honest….

We had not even pulled out of the parking lot before Jacob told us how very, very, VERY hungry he was. “So, uh, what is it that you particularly want to eat?”

“Pancakes. And bacon.”

Off to Cracker Barrel then to prevent starvation as Dylan declared he was dying, and then closed his eyes and went into a theatrical spasm to prove it. Mommy didn’t actually SAY that the boys had to come back alive, but I think she is sort of expecting it. I’ll have to check with her later about that.

“What are we going to do today?” asked Jacob. “Can we kill ducks and chickens and I can pull out their guts?”

“Yeah!” echoed Dylan. “I want to pull out their bwadder!”

“Uh, I don’t think chickens HAVE bladders.” Except for gall bladders.

“Why not?” asked Jacob. “Yeah, why not?” echoed Dylan.

Papa came to my rescue. “We’re putting up fence today, that’s why not. We’ll kill roosters Saturday.”

“YAY!”

On the way, Dylan started announcing quietly in a monotone voice “I hunting yoooooouuuuuu!”

“Hunh?”

A little louder, “I hunting youuuuuuuuuu!”

“What?”

“He’s a vampire, Meemaw!” explained Jacob.

“I’m a vampieyo. I’m going to biiiite your neck!”

This was moaned loudly enough for Papa to hear. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to bite YOUR butt!”

“Papa, that’s NOT right!” declared Jacob sternly. “There’s NO SUCH THING as a vampire that bites butts!”

“Yeah!” said Dylan. “Vampieyos suck fwoats, NOT butts!”

After debating whether or not vampires were limited to biting necks or whether some vampires would bite you in the butt if you weren’t careful, like maybe vampire dogs, we arrived at Cracker Barrel.

“I’m not hungry!” announced Dylan.

“Fine. You’re going to come inside, sit down quietly, and order food that you’re not hungry for, and then you’re going to eat it!”

Dylan ordered a scrambled egg (and chocolate milk). Then he announced that he had to use the bafwoom.

He went into the stall, and slammed and locked the door. After a few minutes, he announced “The poop isn’t coming, Meemaw! Maybe later.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. We have a LONG ride ahead of us, so you better go now. Besides, you said you had to go peepee.”

He thought it over, and announced he’d try it again. By this time, the bathroom had filled up and he now had an admiring audience.

“Meemaw, I POOPED in the potty!”

“Good job! Now clean that bottom!”

“I did, Meemaw! Now I’m going to peepee.”

“Oh, what a sweet child! He sounds like a little ANGEL! They’re just so precious at that age.”

I decided to leave her to her illusions. She looked like a nice lady.

Back at the table, Jacob was coloring industriously and artistically, and writing out his numbers in a lovely cursive script. Dylan was very pleased to find that he had a knife just like everybody else in his silverware packet. This preoccupation with knives and cutting things is getting a little creepy! He alternately colored (scribbled) and brandished his knife. When the food arrived, he enthusiastically proceeded to cut his scrambled egg with his knife and fork. Somehow he managed to poke himself in the eye with his fork during the process. He manned up and didn’t cry, although a few tears leaked out of his poked eye. MeeMaw got a little hostile at that point, made him put his knife DOWN and eat with his fork! Or even better, with his spoon! And we eat eggs, NOT eyes!

YOU are a big poopyhead!” announced Dylan.

I looked down at him sternly. “We do not engage in gratuitous insults at the table.”

One-eyed glare up at Meemaw. “I full!

“Fine. You’re still going to eat.”

Breakfast proceeded with no more incidents save Jacob spilling his chocolate milk on the floor, and deciding that he was full, too, after five bites of the two pancakes he had ordered.

“Nothin’ doin’, Mister. You are going to eat those pancakes because I do not want to hear how hungry you are again once we arrive at the house! You had a choice between one pancake and two, and you BEGGED for two because you were sooooooo hungry! Now EAT!”

He ate.

Papa, long finished, went to pay the bill and waited outside until I decided that the boys really were full. I may have miscalculated.

As soon as we arrived home and walked in the door, Dylan said “Meemaw, I’m hungry! Fix me a sammich!”

*sigh* I better go. The fence posts await!

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