My Emily is not the best bedfellow. I remember Grandmother saying that about my little sister Tracy, but she always let Tracy
A couple of weeks ago she and Molly were here for a mini-spring break and Emily slept with us two nights in a row. The first night she woke me up with a sudden “kerplunk” of her legs thrown over mine, both of hers at the same time landed squarely on me. I moved them back and went back to sleep. About an hour later it happened again, this time her knees sort of crooking over my legs, getting a good lock. I unlocked them from mine and tossed them back over. Then I decided I may as well get a jump on this deal so I threw my legs over hers and went back to sleep. Two can play that game.
The next morning as I was making breakfast – Emily’s favorite, my “over done” (meaning over-easy) eggs cooked in butter with toast and fruit – we laughed at the kerplunk story. She told it to her mom, then to Grandpa, my co-workers and pretty much to whomever would listen. To her the story just got funnier as we told it, like the one about the Rollaway Cart (see blog June 2011).
The girls came to visit their new cousin, Liam. Emily wanted to hold the sweet newborn, but Molly was mainly interested in exploring the backyard – which was not at all Molly-proof. It slopes down over an uneven path directly to the edge of the creek, and it was all I could do to keep ahead of her so she didn’t do a nose dive. She loved “Uncle Walter’s backyard”.
Later at Grandma’s Emily set up school on the upstairs back porch while we were waiting for supper. She was the teacher of course, with her desk, chair, crayons and paper arranged, and I was her only student (Molly doesn’t sit still for school, too busy trying to pole vault off the porch or blow bubbles or poke a stick through the spokes of the exercise bike or see if she can squeeze through the railing). Emily made sure I drew my cat exactly as I was supposed to and copied my letters correctly.
After I passed art class, she got out all the stuffed animals from the grandkids’ room and made a zoo along the porch, grouping the animals by like kind. There were sections for dogs, bears, mice, cats, tigers & lions, and a special cave of honor for Bambi, who always gets special treatment. On our first visit to the zoo, we made the rounds admiring all the animals. Then we made the rounds again to pet each animal, making sure no one was overlooked. Then we made the rounds again to feed each one, using crayons, one per animal. Molly was in and out of the zoo, but Grandpa loved it.
Bubbles baths next. Big Bubbles all the way. Grandpa has the best hands for swishing the most bubbles, but Grandma does a pretty fair job too if there is enough bubble soap. I let Emily soak a little longer, being the head zookeeper and all, while putting Molly to bed. She was exhausted and for once went down pretty easily. Grandpa almost woke her up by choosing just that time to replace the porch light outside that window, but fortunately my wildly quiet arm waving and evil-eye got his attention. (Dang, I should have let him replace it, the darn bulb is still out there waiting to be replaced…)
Once Emily was de-bubbled and wrapped in a towel like a taco it was off to bed, where she and Grandpa and I enjoyed reading Ramona the pest. Emily held the Ramona doll, and talked Grandpa into petting Pete the cat. We read most of the chapter where it’s Ramona’s first day at kindergarten and she doesn’t want anyone to take her to school because she’s a big girl but of course her mom insists so she goes with her big sister who is bossing her around. As a big sister I love that story.
But it wasn’t until the following week when I was at Emily’s house for her 6th birthday party that we had our next Bedfellows experience. That evening we danced to music from the keyboard, made up our own songs and were in general very silly. Which was followed by Bubble Bath. Which began to involve a lot of spitting of bathwater, for some unknown reason. I left the bathroom to go change my shirt, catching myself as I dug through my suitcase, thinking, “Wait, what am I doing, I’m going right back in there!” I must be getting old - never change your shirt until after they are out of the bathtub…
It was movie night and Emily got to pick, so we watched “Wreckit Ralph”, which was actually better than I expected. We snuggled on the couch under a blanket with popcorn and giggled at the banter between Ralph “Admiral Underpants” and his friend Vanellope von Schweetz. Emily and Molly and I adjourned to their room where they played quietly. Molly put her babies to bed in Great Gran’s old wooden cradle, and Emily played with her miniature pet set, taking them to the little wooden church I’d given her for Christmas. I laid on the bed watching them, delighting in the scene. It had everything I deem important – family, tradition, faith, fun, love, home, the feeling of security. I felt happy and comfortable – and then just happy, as Emily climbed into bed with me and started intentionally throwing her legs over me.
I tried to explain that kerplunk was only funny if it happened while you were sleeping. We laughed and drifted off. This time she had new tricks under the covers. We slept feet to feet, where she laid on her side and her feet touched one of mine, tucked under one of my legs, our feet-prints meeting. Then later we went knees to knees, each turned on our side facing each other. Each time I looked at her sweet sleeping face and smiled. Doesn’t matter to me if it’s kerplunk, feet to feet or knees to knees, I’ll take this little bedfellow any night.
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