Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Charlie Update

We were walking into Walmart. Charlie grabbed Grandma and pulled her out of the road. "Grandma, you might get run over", he said. "Then we'll have to get a new Grandma". I asked him if I get to pick the new Grandma, but he said he gets to pick. Darn it.

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Charlies new thing: When you go into his room, he says, "Welcome to my room. These are my toys, and my new bed." No more HGTV for him.

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I've found that when I'm at my best, Charlie thinks I'm an idiot. When I'm the most inept, Charlie thinks I'm the coolest ever. Let me give you a couple of examples.

- Charlie got a train set from Santa (and Visa). I'd read the instructions carefully, and was ready to assemble the 8,253 microscopic pieces. I was completing it at a speed that would thrill a bald redneck factory manager, but Charlie wasn't impressed. He kept trying to take the job from me, and when I protested he rolled his eyes as if to say " stupid old Grandpa". He was surprised I completed it at all.

- We were cruising down the Dale road the other night and out of nowhere, splash! I'd driven into water that was over the road, which is a very bad thing. I immediately reverted to a string of words I'd learned in the service as I dropped the Jeep in four wheel drive and eased my way out of the newly formed lake. With my adrenaline hitting an all time high, I heard Charlie laughing in the back. "Cool, Papaw. Do again. Do again!" We will never do that again. Charlie did learn a lot of new words, though.

I guess when I try to teach Charlie I could poke myself in the eye occasionally to keep him admiring me.

Monday, December 21, 2009

A Guide To Church

Papaw can't write today. He needs a little rest. Last time I looked, he had a cool rag on his head and was talking to himself.

My name is Charlie. I'm five years old. I'll write to you today.

What to do at church:

If your grownups make you go to church, like mine do, I can help you get through it. Just follow these simple steps.

1. If you stay close to your grownup when you go in the foyer, it will feel confident and start talking. Count to 3, then move away real quiet. Look for any tables, shelves, or drawers. Sometimes these things hide candy. Try to find a paper that grownups sign their names on. They use these to volunteer to do important things. There is only one copy so wad it up and put it in your pocket to color on later. This is a good place to stick your tongue out at a girl. Don't get too close because they have cooties.

2. Follow your grownup to the pew. Try to get an aisle seat in case you need to escape later. Sit quietly until church starts. Now, it's opposite time. When they stand, lay down. When they sit, stand up on the pew. When they sing, try dancing on your seat. When the grownups pray, count to 5, then drop a song book from real high to the pew. Watch for people to jump. It's funny.

3. Look for a little old Grandma. Get her attention. Give her a big smile. If she smiles back, run to her pew and give her a big hug. She may smell like old people, but you'll get candy or some money. On your way back to your seat run into the aisle and do a little dance.

4. Crawl. When the mood strikes you, get on the floor and crawl away. This causes a big uproar. Nice.

5. Look at your grownup. If it has a red face and bulging eyes, say "I love you." and give them a big hug. Sit quietly until they relax, then repeat steps 2 through 5.

I hope this helped. If you follow these simple steps you'll learn to love church as much as I do.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Grandfather's Remorse

Believe it or not, it JUST occurred to me that my Grandson is not like the others. I woke up from a much needed nap (see previous post) with a picture in my head of Charlie at Taekwondo class. All the other little children were sitting in line, cross-legged and placid. Charlie was doing somersaults. Another picture flashed. The kids were standing, at attention, and doing a respectful bow at the end of class. Charlie was spinning on one foot.

And so it goes. I'm sure the other Grandpas make fun of me. Mothers probably hide their children as we come by. Cars perform illegal u-turns to avoid going by us when we walk down the street.

As I think about it, I wouldn't have it any other way. Any kid will misbehave once in a while, but only Charlie can do it with STYLE.

Attack of the Manic Pre-schooler

0300 hours: Reveille. Sort of like in the service but my drill sergeant never grabbed my face and yelled; "Papaw, time to get up." I sat up quickly, and when I could focus enough to see the clock told Charlie to go back to bed. He did, so I settled back into sweet slumber.

0315 hours: It's back. "Papaw, is it time now?"

I rolled out of bed and stumbled out of the bedroom turned barracks.

Charlie started hopping across the dark living room. Each bounce sounded like a distant mortar exploding. "Let's watch cartoons. I want cereal. Wanna play cars?"

"Go to bed.", I growled. With the effort required to overtake a small country I marched him back to bed. I warned him that Santa was watching and was getting pretty upset. As he feigned sleep, I sat on the couch, waiting to intercept him when he sneaks out of bed. I nodded on and off to a five year old's rendition of "Special Agent Oso".

0600 hours: Can't sleep. I'm sure the opposing force will attack at any moment. As I resolve myself to wakefulness, it awakes....

Battle plan: Tonight every time he dozes off, I'm going to poke him. We'll see how early he wants to get up tomorrow!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

From a previous e-mail I sent>Out of the mouths of babes: A woman walked by us, and Charlie said (loudly) "Papaw, somethings wrong with her." I asked what, and he replied "Her butt is really big." - And it was.

Charlie takes Taekwondo in Carmi. Though the instructor is a black belt he is unable to pry a four year old off of his neck. Charlie- 1, Karate- 0.

When I picked him up at the babysitter today, she was a little red faced. He'd went to her in the kitchen and said "Woman, where's my food." I think the food was nowhere after that.

Our church has a weekly youth group. They're very good with kids but not very fast. Charlie escaped and made it home and into the house with the Preacher chasing him. She (the Preacher) handled it well and did not curse openly.

Charlie and I getting in trouble with Grandma is usually preceded by the phrase: "Papaw, I got an idea."

I've taught him how to use a drill and a screw gun. Don't ask how that works for my walls.

Charlie's father died last summer. For some reason he's been telling people "My Daddy's in jail."
This is from a previous e-mail: ******************************
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Today we went to visit at a St Louis hospital, and the trip to the 4th floor was uneventful. After a 9 second visit little Charlie was done (as was I) so I generously offered to take him for a walk. We returned to the elevator, and while we were waiting he noticed a small sign that showed flames.

"What's that, Papaw?" he asked. I replied that it meant not to use the elevator if there is a fire.

I don't know how he misheard me, but when the elevator arrived he would not go in. " I don't want to catch on fire!" is all he would say. I explained again to no avail. I begged. I threatened, I even tried to carry him into the elevator, which resulted in my shins becoming bruised. A doctor tried to get him in, and not even a pretty little blond nurse could persuade him to get in the elevator.

I gave up and purchased a soda out of the nearby machine. Charlies' eyes lit up at the prospect of a drink. Aha!

I baited him just like the carrot and donkey cartoon, right into the elevator.

After about 40 seconds of screaming (his) he decided the elevator was OK and we had no further problems, other than the security guard.

Thank God I didn't have to take the stairs!
The evening ritual at our house is dinner, then we play cars or "fight" as Charlie calls it. His idea of fighting is to jump on me repeatedly until I go hide in the bathroom or Spongebob comes on.

Last night during the "fight" my attention was drawn to the TV news. Big mistake. A 50 pound 5 year old jumping from the arm of a couch will impact a cheekbone with the approximate force of a cannon ball at point blank range. The degree of swelling I endure verifies the equation.

When he landed on the body part previously known as MY FACE I yelled, something like "Ouch", or "Oh my God, please help me." Charlie ran to Grandma and tearfully told her I'd yelled at him.

Grandma came into the room where I was curled up in a fetal position. "Did you yell at him?", she growled. I tried to talk but was in to much pain. Taking this for yes, she snapped; "Don't!".

Poor Charlie. Such a trauma he suffered.