Samuel on Christmas Eve

 

The Mommy gave a green crayon and some paper to Samuel after strapping him into the high chair.  “Write a letter to Santa!  We’ll put it with the cookies and milk tonight!”  Samuel gazed at the paper dismally before grasping the crayon in little boy stickiness.

He formed his thoughts and began to write. Dear Fat Man in the Red Suit,  I concede to your knowledge and wish to inform you that I do not regret a single thing.  Well, the cat and scissors episode was a mistake on my part….

Samuel beheld the paper which was now partially covered in scribbles, not in the clear words from his head.   Dammit, green stick!  Obey, or feel my wrath!  But to his dismay, his hand continued to make the same scrawl. Oh, well. 

He continued, …but The Cat is doing well, and we have made our peace.  Please accept this humble milk and cookies as an offering of friendship.  Sincerely, Samuel

The word “sincerely” stuck in his throat, but a little lying was fine at Christmas, as he had observed adults greeting each other with feigned delight.  Then Samuel smashed the green crayon into pieces on the tray.  You were warned.

That Christmas Eve night, The Mommy let Samuel carry the plate of cookies to the coffee table.  Both parents beamed with pride at his carefulness.  The Daddy put the glass of milk down beside the cookies, while The Mommy gave Samuel the letter to place with the cookies.

While The Parents laughed and hugged, Samuel turned his back to them, and prepared to place the letter atop the cookies.  Before this was done, Samuel dug deep into his nose, and removed a booger.  I have been saving this all day, just for you, Santa!

He smeared the booger onto a raisin on a cookie at the edge closest to the fireplace.  Eat this, Fat Man!

May the Peace of Christmas be with you....

Samuel through the Open Door

https://www.control4.com/

The door swung open to Samuel's home, where his parents also lived. The Mommy dropped the groceries on the table and tossed Samuel into the playpen. “Be right back!” Mommy whisked out the door.

Samuel waited, listened. He had the time, the strength, and he could do this. Throwing the blue pacifier over the railing, Samuel hoisted his shwweet whittle weggies over the railing and did a practiced roll. With his hands up for balance, Samuel began the newly discovered walking power: stagger-stagger-wobble. 

‘Focus, man, focus!’ The words hammered in his 14 month brain. ‘Ignore the Cheerios under the couch!”

Samuel reached the spot where he nailed Grammie with projectile vomit. She was  saying, “Gwamma wuvs dose shwweeet whittle legees…” Blaaaagh, and she stopped. Good times.

Almost there, Samuel pictured the freedom:  chase the kitty, taste the flowers, squish mud. Such fine adventures, and he was almost there.

The Mommy swooped through the door and knocked over Samuel. She swept him up. “Mommy wuvs dose pwessus whittle laygees…”

Samuel tried to say, “Dammit woman! Can’t you speak the King’s English?” All that came out was a cry and some spit-up. The door swung shut.

Written 2012. Chronicles of Samuel blog site. 

Oh, how I love writing the unexpected.

Samuel and the Fireplace

I had the source site at one time, but I can't find it...Sorry!

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.

The stroller raced through the Mall, with Samuel enjoying the ride.  With the revised harness, there was little else for him to do.  He had ditched a shoe back by Godiva, so he was pleased.

The Mommy came to a stop at the Mall Christmas tree, where Santa was seated on the big throne.  Without much pause, she replaced the retrieved shoe, and hoisted up the surprised Samuel.  Dang.  She’s gotten quick these days.

Samuel found himself on Santa’s lap, peering up at the jovial man with the halo of white hair and beard.  “Ho, Ho, Ho…”

At mid-Ho!, Samuel stuck his index finger up into Santa’s nostril.  Up yours, jolly old elf.

I know.  I know about....

Click, flash!  The camera captured the moment. 

Santa wrapped his gloved hand around Samuel’s and brought it down.  He’s been trained for this.  Samuel decided.

Santa bent his head down to Samuel and spoke.  “I know all about you.  I know what you did to the cat.  The scissors and all.  I know.”

Samuel grew still.  That event had not gone well for either of them.

Then Santa whispered into Samuel’s ear.  “I know about….” 

Samuel was stunned.  How could Santa know that?

Then Samuel was back in the stroller, gazing dully at Santa, who tapped his temple.  “Ho, Ho, Ho!”

...And I'm off....

My daughter Mary, husband Richard, and baby Benjamin

Like many bloggers over the summer, I am going on vacation.  My daughter gave birth to Benjamin Thomas on June 24, 2012 in Switzerland.

Like any grandmother, my arms ache to hold this baby and cover his face with kisses.  So, I will be gone from July 24 through August 9.  My posts will actually “re-Posts”.

The Chronicles of Samuel will be up August 1, 3, 6, and 9^th.  August 7^th will be a post in honor and memory of my father.

Since computers will be unavailable, I won’t be responding to comments.  I hope you enjoy some of Samuel’s adventures.

The Chronicles of Samuel

This youngster emerged from a See*Photo*Write photo of a church door.  The character of Samuel grew from that photo prompt.  So I am re-posting a few of his adventures.  Who knows where Samuel will go or what he will do next?

Samuel and the Church Door 

Samuel vs. Ginger

Samuel and Nana


Samuel and Santa




More will come later.  Happy New Year to each of you!