Samuel and the Fireplace

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Since his shearing, there had been a quiet lull with Samuel. The Parents let Grammy babysit one afternoon.  Surely she could handle Samuel now.

They sat in a triangle:  Grammy on the sofa, Samuel on the floor with his Legos and beach bucket set, and Ginger the Tabby on the window ledge.  Grammy put on “Little Einsteins”, and watched the children pleading for the audience to ‘pat, pat, pat’. 

Pat! Pat! Pat! Make Rocket go!

Ginger stared at Samuel.   Go ahead, kid.  Make your move.

Samuel watched Grammy down the clear liquid with a slice of lime.  It wasn’t water, he knew.  That’s The Daddy’s Special bottle, lady.

In time, Grammy’s head drooped, just as the red rocket rose into the sky.  Samuel shook his head.  Oh, Grammy.  You are no Nana.

Samuel pondered his options.  The plant?  No.  The curtains?  No.  Then he looked at the cold fireplace.  Excellent.

Samuel took the sand bucket and shovel to the fireplace.  Oh, so much better than I thought.  He viewed the pile of ashes and the soot.

Always a hard worker, Samuel filled the bucket with the ashes.  With quiet care, he carried it to the kitchen sink where he could just barely reach.  Dumping the bucket, Samuel returned to the task. Ashes and soot marked his journeys.

Wiping his hands on the carpet, chairs, and curtains, Samuel took bucket after bucket to the sink.  It was tiring to stretch to the sink.  Samuel headed to the bathroom where the toilet was an easy reach.

Viewing the fireplace, Samuel rubbed his hands over his stubbly head.  A good job well done, young man.  He climbed up next to Grammy and kissed her face.  She snored. 

Yes, Grammy.  You are going to be in such trouble.  With that thought, Samuel decided to help the red rocket fly, ‘pat, pat, pat’.  The front door opened.

Samuel and Christmas Lights

Samuel gazed out at the falling snow. It blurred the strings of bright Christmas lights along the street, an eerie but pleasing sight.

Samuel felt this blurry sensation in his being. Since seeing Santa, the man who knows everything, Samuel doubted himself. That was scary.

“Time for sleepin’, buddy!” The Daddy scooped up a compliant Samuel. Surprised at the lack of fight, The Daddy lay Samuel in the crib and then locked down the ‘tent’. “Daddy’s gonna catch some ZZZZs too.” 

He left quietly, leaving the door cracked just a bit.  Soon the ZZZZs were flying; The Daddy was out cold.

Samuel had figured out the ‘tent’ and its locking mechanism just the other day. Such a simple thing really—simple enough that adults would not notice it.

Slipping the hook up and over, Samuel silently raised the ‘tent’, and ninja-d himself over the railing. He swung down onto the carpet, and made his way to the living room where the snores were raising the roof.

He headed into the kitchen where Ginger-the-fat-tabby reclined in the travel carrier, after her encounter with the angel on the tree. They eyed each other in mutual respect. A truce had been called after the scissor incident. Later, cat. I must think some more.

Samuel continued his exploration. Next to the living room he entered the guest room where Grammy was staying. All was normal, except for her elaborate knitting bag. It was enclosed, except for four holes through which yarn could be pulled.

Peering into the interior, Samuel perceived there were four large balls of yarn. Large balls nicely wound with single strands of yarn through the holes: This had possibilities.

Pulling out one strand and then another, Samuel noted how easy this would be.  Grabbing the other strands, Samuel left the room.  Streams of red metallic, sparkling silver, shimmering gold, and forest green followed him obediently.

He walked around the house, crawling under the tables and over the chairs.  Some strands were dropped, but would be continued later around furniture legs and even the Christmas tree stand.  Quietly and methodically Samuel wove rooms together in bright Christmas cheer.  Forget the lipstick.  THIS is so much better.

All was complete.  The house was strung and tied up, a grand present just waiting to be opened.

Samuel went to the carrier where Ginger had been watching.  Cry havoc! Samuel opened the hook lock.  And release the cat of carnage!

He returned to his room, and closed the door.  He had barely climbed into the crib and locked the tent when he heard the earliest sounds.  Tucking his thumb in his mouth and pulling up his blankie, Samuel smiled sleepily.  So little time, so much that could have been done.

Samuel vs. Ginger

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Heavy rain pelted the Old Church door and Samuel coughed.  It was a wet cough followed by yellow goo from his nose.  Misery was running high.

The Mommy had cleaned him up, wiping his nose again.  ‘Just let it flow, woman!’  Samuel had already found the sofa and chairs useful enough. 

The doorbell rang, and Aunt Tammy came whooshing through the door.  An irritatingly cheerful woman, “Oh, whittle Sammie Whammy has duh sniffuls?” as she scooped him up.  “Oh, who’s duh cutest…” 

Samuel let loose with a full-bodied sneeze right into her open mouth.  ‘Just for you, Tammy Whammy!’

The Mommy carried in a gift from Tammy’s car:  a round fish bowl with a deep-red fish swirling around, its fins fluttering in clear water.  Setting it on the table, she wiped Samuel’s nose again and took him from the retching Aunt Tammy.

Putting Samuel down by the table, the Mommy called, “Here’s some tea!”  Tammy stumbled, retching all the way to the kitchen, leaving Samuel.  Eye level with the fish bowl, Samuel considered it.

Ginger-the-old-fat-tabby appeared on a chair next to Samuel.  Their eyes met, thoughts were exchanged, and challenges made.  Who is faster?  Who is better?  Who will win this battle?

Samuel saw only one way. Giving it his all, Samuel screamed and cried, “Whaaaa!  Mommmmmmammmmmmaaa…”

The Mommy came, saw the crying child pointing at the cat, and grabbed the Ginger.  She scolded the old cat all the way to the front door.  Ginger and Samuel exchanged looks.  ‘So this is the way it is to be,’ Ginger glared through slitted eyes.

Time enough.  Just time enough.  Samuel grabbed the fish bowl between snotty hands, pulling it to the edge.  ‘Be free, my friend.  Be free.’  The bowl dropped.

Samuel and Christmas Day

Christmas morning dawned with the doorbell ringing.  When the Old Church door opened, gift laden relatives gushed into the house. 

Taken by surprise, Samuel was swept up in the flood by Aunt Tammy.  Having no spit, vomit, mucous, or gas to give her as his own gift, Samuel improvised.  He balled up his fist and bonked her square on the nose.  Just for you, Tammy Whammy.

The result was spectacular as blood poured.  Nana grabbed Samuel before he could be dropped, and said, “Good grief, Tammy.”  A sparkle in Nana’s eyes told him that he had done well.

The flood carried Samuel to the Christmas tree, where a lone cookie lay on the plate.  Samuel shook his head. No sense of adventure?  Disappointed, Samuel stuffed the cookie in his mouth, raisin and all.

The gift opening frenzy began.  Present after present came at Samuel.  He scarcely had time to tear off the paper before The Daddy took the box away and gutted it for the toy inside.  Not the box!  Don’t hurt the box!

When the box was heaved onto a growing mound, Samuel glared at The Daddy.   Dammit, man!  Have you lost all touch with your inner child?

With the last gift unwrapped, the adults wandered around.

Samuel was lost in a sea of knees, a crowd of crotches. 

He found his way to the cat cage, where Ginger hunkered down.  Move over, cat.  I’m coming in.

Ginger snarled.  Get your own, kid.  This is mine.

Samuel sighed.  The mound of boxes looked promising.  Inspired, Samuel found the large microwave box and pushed it down the hall.  It was a monumental effort.

Arriving at Grammy’s guest room, Samuel moved the box to the open closet.  He climbed inside, tucked his thumb in his mouth, and dropped off to sleep.

Hours later, The Mommy found him after a frantic search.

In the wrapping paper clean up, Santa’s letter lay sadly unnoticed.  It read, Nice try, Samuel.  I will see you next year.  F.M.in the R. S. aka Santa