Gram's Helping Hand!

Because both my daughters had to work on Thanksgiving Day, my family and I had our Thanksgiving feast yesterday (Saturday, that would be).

And about a day or two prior to the big day, I made a comment to my son that since he would be here and isn't working as yet, he could come down here and spend the day helping me fix our big meal!

Surprisingly enough, he arrived here around 9:30-10:00 a.m. and ready to go to work.

Well, not quite that. He was here and he wasn't hungover or anything like that but he hadn't a clue as to what he would be able to help me with.

I already had the turkey pretty well cooked by 10 a.m. and I'd baked five pies the day before, plus made the stuffing (obviously, since the turkey was almost all cooked by then.)

All that remained was to peel the potatoes (white and sweets), put the green bean casserole together and fix two salad items (broccoli and cauliflower salad and pepper slaw.)

However, I did have to make a quick run to the grocery store for the salad items along with a couple other fresh veggies for the veggie/cheese tray so he came in handy then as the one to stay home with the two little kids and make sure while I was gone that they didn't destroy the place.

When I returned home, Maya had gotten out her paints -four fairly large bottles of "washable" paints and was getting ready to open shop on the kitchen table with them. This was one time when my son -who has next to no experience with small children - realized how this action of hers could spell potential disaster and he suggested to her that they get some newspapers and put them on the table and she could then put her drawing paper (meaning Gram's typing paper she had managed to find and confiscate) on top of the newspapers, thus eliminating any mess.

It was a good thought. A very good thought, just not one that was foolproof though.

As she began playing little artist, he seated himself at the computer to play on Facebook. He was only about 4, maybe 5 feet, at the most, away from her and felt this was a safe distance from which to still be free to play on the computer and still keep a little bit of an eye on her activity.

Not long after the drawing/painting time began though, out of the corner of his eye, he realized his 7-year-old niece was no longer drawing on the table but was, instead, dancing in what could only be described as a fairly large sized puddle of paints!

Keep in mind, the container said "washable" paints!

My son immediately jumped up and began to get equipment to clean up Miss Maya's mess, and yes, it was really a big one too!

The floor that Mandy had slaved over the day before on her hands and knees -scrubbing it and putting down polish on top of that -now had an area about 4x4 ft (16 square ft, ya know) or thereabouts, with a motley mixture of the primary colors splashed all over the place!

Needless to say, because my son knows his sister's temperment all too well, he was in a bit of a frenzy to try to get the paints all sopped up first and then, scrub bucket, bottle of Lestoil and a scrub brush in hand, he got down on his hands and knees to scrub the floor clean again!

Oh the mutterings he was mumbling!

At one point, as he walked to the kitchen to get more stuff to sop up the then soapy water and such, I heard him mutter that he knew there was a good reason why he'd never had any children. Or at least, this qualified for a reason to never become a parent at any rate.

And hearing him say that, it was all I could do not to burst into loud laughter.

I realized at that moment in time I was finally getting my revenge on him!

It only took me almost 35 years to get it but baby, it certainly was worth while that I had to wait so long.

You see, years back, when he was about 2 1/2, or so, and was (I thought) busy playing in the front of the house (living room) while I was back in the bedrooms, vacuuming, even over the noise of the vacuum, I suddenly realized there were no sounds of play emanating from the living room.

And anyone who has ever had children knows the cardinal rule of thumb is if it gets quiet, the child is either asleep or has gotten into some unwanted thing that spells disaster for sure.

I went to check on him and found him in the kitchen with the contents of the cupboard where I kept the cereal boxes all removed from said cupboard.

Furthermore, each and every box of cereal had also been emptied into a nice big pile on the floor. That pile was topped off with the box of oatmeal and then, to finish off his grand production there, he had located the bottle of syrup too and had proceeded to pour the whole darned bottle of syrup over all this cereal!

Then, he had walked -or danced -through it all, probably several times.

He had on a pair of flannel pajamas his grandmother had made for him for Christmas and the oatmeal with the syrup as an adhesive, was sticking to his pantlegs so as to make him look like he'd possibly been tarred and feathered.

And trust me, that's pretty much what I wanted to do to him too!

He knew right away, probably because my shrieking at him came close to putting him into cardiac arrest, that Mom was not exactly pleased with his form of artwork.

I don't remember spanking him although that is a remote possibly that I may have given him a smack on the behind as I took him to the bathroom to scrub him down and get clean clothes on him. Most likely though, the language he heard from me that day may very well have been his earliest instructions in curse words of every type imaginable!

I always used to tell my kids when they were growing up that I couldn't wait until they had children of their own someday and then, they would understand completely why I was, why I am the way I am -because children drive you insane, don't they?

But anyway, I do feel completely compensated now in the getting even department where my son is concerned.

Getting even, even when it takes 30 plus years for it to come about, certainly is well worth it!

And, if he ever does meet someone with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life, I do hope this event doesn't scar him for life about having children of his own.

After all, eventually he'll also be able to say like I do: "Revenge comes to him/her who waits, patiently!" (The key word there being "patiently.")