Christopher's Graduation Day

                                          

 

 

The Baptism Times Three

 WesleyHugh                                                                        

 May    , 2013                                 

 Dallas, TX

THE BROOM DANCE

Friday evening at the Graham home in mid-March surprisingly had us scrambling for cooler fresh air, so we all gathered on the back deck. It had been a very warm and humid day, typical for Texas, if not exactly typical for March in Texas. I had been enjoying the space more this trip because Christopher and Wesley had attached some screens to the frame of the porch. One of the things this family does well together is play. I had expected that we would play some sort of board game that evening, but at the moment we were talking and just enjoying each other's company.

There was a green-handled broom leaning against the house and Jill grabbed it and asked, "Do you guys want to do the broom dance?" The kids were enthusiastic and wanted to know how to do it. Jill said she would show us, and she began. "Now watch this," she said and got their attention. "I can do the broom dance, broom dance, broom dance. I can do the broom dance, how about you?" As she finished she thrust the broom toward a waiting and watching Wesley.

Wesley jumped up to grab the broom. "Let me try!" He went through the motions and he repeated the verse. "No," said Jill, "that's not right. Now watch this. I can do the broom dance, broom dance, broom dance. I can do the broom dance, how about you?" This time the broom was pushed forward to Calvin.

Calvin was excited to get a chance and he began to dance. "I can do the broom dance, broom dance, broom dance. I can do the broom dance, how about you?" "No, no." Jill shook her head and got up and demonstrated again. "Now watch this! I can do the broom dance, broom dance, broom dance. I can do the broom dance, how about you?"

The green broom was passed from person to person. Most of us got at least two chances to get the broom dance correct, but Jill repeatedly doused our hopes. She got up between each person's attempt with a fresh demonstration so we wouldn't forget, but we just couldn't seem to get the thing exactly right. Jill was not to be satisfied.

There was lots of frustration and lots of laughter as we finally had to admit that she had stumped us. When she revealed to us what we had failed to catch on to we laughed and laughed and enjoyed the joke that was on us. There's always fun and laughter to be had with this wonderful family.

Did you figure out why we couldn't master the broom dance? So, the question now is, can you do the broom dance?

AN ALL- AMERICAN GIRL

She's here, she's there, she's everywhere. She loves her doll, she loves to talk. When she talks words come out so fast, so garbled, and at such a pitch that her Grammy is constantly saying, "Slow down, and say it again. I cannot understand you." She rolls her eyes, takes a deep breath, and repeats slower, and sometimes so deliberately slow that it's annoying. She's sassing me. But she smiles, so I forgive. She loves pretty dresses. She loves jewelry. She loves to play with her "American Girl" doll, but she needs more clothes. So does Lelia. More clothes, more hats, more shoes, more yellow.

"Lelia," I ventured carefully one day. "You know, I don't think yellow is a good color for you. You really don't have the coloring to wear it. Turquoise is a great color for you." "I don't care," she stated pleasantly, and that was the end of that.

We visited a store in the mall one morning that was perfect for ten year old girls who enjoy being girls. Perfect for Lelia. We looked at colorful and cute outfits. "Look at this, Lelia!" It was purple. She began to wrinkle her nose, then grabbed one just like it at the other end of the rack. The bright yellow one. "I like this better." Of course she did. We ended up with a cute white billed cap with a huge "L" printed on it in silver sequins. At least it wasn't yellow. An old memory popped into my head of being in a mall and showing my daughter all the pretty dresses and frilly tops like Lelia loved. Jill turned up her nose and flatly refused. You just can't win in this world with daughters and granddaughters.

Grammys are much too old to understand this whirlwind. Her mother understands her, I believe, but she was never like her. Her mother was a tomboy, and she played with the boys with their cars and their bikes. But Lelia is blessed to have a mom who takes her as she is, and has no desire to make her anything other than that.

Lelia may be misguided in her choice of yellow (strictly my opinion, but her mother concurs), but most of her other choices are well-thought out and very wise. She dislikes many of the modern celebrities and music/musicians that are so popular with many girls her age. She loves Julie Andrews and the Sound of Music, and she's disgusted with me when I say I don't. She's what I would consider conservative with a flair of glitz. She's fun and silly and delightful, but when she doesn't get her way she's moody and pouty and difficult. But, hey, she's a girl.

The kids and I were in the car one afternoon, and the boys were discussing the difficulty of dealing with a moody sister. I told them, "If you think she's moody now, just wait a few years. When she's fifteen or sixteen you'll probably feel like sending her on a mission to the moon." They don't get it yet, but they will. Oh, my, they sure will. And I hope I get to be around to watch.

AN URBANE TRAVELER

When Calvin shares his heart with another woman it will be a bridge that his mother and grandmothers will have to cross. But at age eleven there doesn't seem to be much danger in that happening soon, though I have heard whispers of a flower that is tempting at the moment. No, Calvin's heart is presently taken with a beauty that could possibly overwhelm all other lovely partakers in his life. Even his beautiful women will have his other love to contend with. Calvin loves to read. His love of books is insatiable. He can settle into a comfy chair and disappear for hours if allowed. He goes everywhere, he sees the world in history, in present, and in future. He visits kingdoms and faraway homes, and he is enamoured with their stories.

Assigned book reports at school are music to his ears, and they are dispatched swiftly and with revel. While I visited for four days last week he finished reading The Diary of Anne Frank and prepared his written report in no time. One of the best parts for me is having Calvin give me an oral report on what he reads. His enthusiasm for what he is reading is just simply delightful. He becomes so familiar with the characters that he oozes with excitement.

His mother, Jill, took a day from work while I was there, and we went on a jaunt to the shopping mall. All children were required to attend, much to the dismay of the young men involved. We were ready to leave, and Jill checked out her children. "What is that?" she asked Calvin with resignation. "A book," he replied. Yes, it was a book, but we were going shopping. And his mother understands that Calvin just doesn't go anywhere without a book in one hand. (At this writing Calvin carries a book in one hand and an orange, transparent yo-yo in the other. As he walks he reads and he practices the yo-yo.) We left the house without further discussion; if he had to go, he was taking a book. While we were at the mall I left a store at one point to find a cooler place on the court to sit. I found Calvin waiting patiently on a bench, in another world, reading.

In the car traveling to the mall and back he read. He reads on the sofa, and he reads laying on his bed. I found an activity that lured him away from his book for a solid afternoon on the back deck. Wesley, Calvin, Lelia and I played five-card draw poker. He won and lost and stayed with us. But the next day he sat with us while we played again, this time with a book in one hand. Calvin played a couple of hands, then would sit out a couple to read. The contortions that his body goes through are amazing, but he sits for so long at one time that he must move to keep the blood flowing.

Calvin visits amazing places, and he is a delight to visit with because he is so well-read and knowledgeable. We will never complain about his reading habits. Actually, I really can't believe that there is one book in the library that family frequents that he hasn't read. If there is, he will find it soon. Meanwhile, he is busy re-reading for the seventh time some of his favorites.

A BODY PRETZEL

Thirteen is an awkward age for a young man, and fourteen gets even more awkward. Elaboration on this subject is impossible since I'm a woman. I have been thirteen, but I am convinced that no one, not even an older man, can explain the confusion in the mind of a boy at that age. Just in observation it seems that they are not in their right mind. I just spent four days in the presence of a thirteen, going on fourteen, year old Wesley, my oldest grandson, and I have a few points of interest I'd like to discuss.

I'm guessing that Wesley is approximately 5 feet and 10 inches tall. His weight is somewhere around 110 pounds. His arms and legs are bones with skin attached, and they are in perpetual motion, I suspect the reason is because they have no idea what to do with themselves. His arms and hands land in the most amazing places, and when he walks it's as if there are multiple joints up and down his legs.

When Wesley sits where does he store all those legs? When Wesley stands what does he do with all those arms? Numerous times I saw him stand with his arms in front of him, hand over hand, palm over the back of the other hand. His arms are too long to dangle, so this gives them a place to park. He sometimes wraps one arm behind his back and grasps the elbow of his other arm. Wesley's Uncle John has always used these two postitions for his arms when standing. When Wesley sits for any length of time his arms and hands travel almost mysteriously around the back of his head, sometimes both arms at the same time, to rest his hands on either side of his head or face.

One evening we all sat in their living room talking, and I watched as, without knowing that he was doing it, his arms searched the back of his head. His long fingers began to caress each ear on opposite sides, and I waited for quite a few moments comtemplating this behavior. I could contain myself no longer when I quipped, "So, you could probably just clean out your ears like this, couldn't you?" His mother exploded with laughter since she had been watching the same activity, and wondering at Wesley's dexterity.

Tomorrow I shall strive to decipher the changing moods of this marvelous young man. He is a delight, a lovely young man, and I began to ask myself just after a day or two if I were going to allow him to live throughout my stay. Conflictions of our love/hate relationship could mean his doom if I didn't stay patient and remember how much I love him. Then he wrapped his long, skinny limbs around my shoulders and I melted with adoration and appreciation for his loving heart. He's gonna be quite a man someday.