Sunday is National Grandparents Day, a holiday created in the US in 1978. It’s also National Yoga Month. We celebrated both last weekend.
We convinced our eldest son and his wife to not try to toilet train our nearly three- year -old grandson Labor Day weekend and instead visit us. They had described what seemed a rather inane and cruel approach that would have quarantined the family inside for an entire day. No more details required.
They arrived Sunday, midmorning to beautiful weather. We had the inflatable baby pool, the sandbox, and the toys all ready. Simon runs (never walks) between one activity to the next. I marvel at his attention span. He can sit for an hour in the sandbox, digging and dumping, or in the baby pool, filling and pouring a variety of plastic measuring cups and funnels my son bought for that purpose.
He no longer needs the gate, which I finally mastered opening the last visit. When he wakes, he opens the door and then knocks on his parents’ bedroom door. They’re upstairs and we’re downstairs in our lake house, so we rose early, anticipating him waking, and opened the door when we heard him talking.
A bit drizzly, we skipped the walk along the road, though Simon remembered from the last time how we saw a “silly dog standing on top of his dog house” and another dog, waiting, as he put it, “for his mommy to open the gate” that kept him secured on the deck. We walked to the water’s edge in time to see about a dozen geese alight into the air, honking and squawking, or as Simon said, laughing.
I was eager for us to do some yoga with him. I couldn’t resist buying You are a Lion! And Other Fun Yoga Poses by Taeeun Yoo, while bookstore browsing. I read as we followed the instructions. We sat on our heels, stuck out our tongues and roared like lions. We squatted and jumped like frogs, put the soles of our feet together and flapped our knees like butterflies, stood tall like mountains, curled our backs like angry cats, stretched out and hissed like snakes, and when assuming downward facing dog, one of the most common yoga poses, barked like rhinoceroses, per Simon’s instructions. Hey, you have to be flexible.
By now, he’s quite a competent sous chef. He drags a chair over to the counter, knows which spatula is his, (the one with the funny face), and dictates to me what we have to do to make French toast. He cuts the “mushy” bananas, breaks eggs, and stirs, holding the bowl so it doesn’t slip off the counter. He sets the table.
Not yet swimming, he watched from the shore as his father and grandfather unmoored the dock to be stored on land for the winter.