Tea party in the tub

Our New Year’s gathering of the clan in rented condominiums included lots of time with the grandchildren and enough food for two such visits.

My husband came with a bundle of ideas and places to go. He buzzed around like a drill sergeant reminding us of the opportunities to see the fantastic, do the unusual and experience the uncommon. I tried to keep a low profile and just sit and visit.
Even though we forgot to remind the grandchildren about an indoor pool, they went swimming anyway insisting that slacks and shirts worked just fine for swimming in December. Afterwards, asked what they enjoyed the most, they shouted in unison, “Going swimming!” So much for elaborate outings and events.

My son’s wife brought recipes and ingredients to cook dishes with the infrequently seen nieces. Another son’s wife piled us up with party food. When we ran short of supplies, we raided each other’s refrigerators and cupboards – a privilege that the miles between us usually prevents.

I brought piles of books to hand out to read and as gifts – and my daughter and I brought crafts to entertain the children.

I guess crafts reflect my grandmotherly phase of life. Mid-way through the visit, my daughter observed, “Mom never did all these crafts with us.”

As we waited with children for a party to begin, aunty gathered the youngsters round the dining room table, handed each a brown lunch bag to cut, punch and decorate with stick-on letters and designs in holiday colors. They worked busily tripping over each other for ribbon, scissors and stick-ons. Meanwhile their toddler sister wandered around the apartment – until she found her baby cousin’s inflatable rubber ducky bath tub. She promptly dragged it out, climbed in and claimed it for herself. She wanted a ride in it, bathe in it, play a game in it. It amused her until we brought out the vibrating massager and began tickling toes and soothing shoulders. She stuck out her feet, giggled and forgot the duck.

The next day they had a couple of tea parties sitting on the carpeted area. But when they asked to have eggnog in the tea cups, I insisted that they move the party to the tiled floor in the kitchen away from the carpet.

They barely had settled on the washable floor when I heard one say, “Ooops – that’s why we are supposed to be out here.” Seconds later a little hand reached up for towels to sop-up the mess. Between their noise and the adult’s, I could not hear myself think so I looked around for a viable alternative. I asked them to take the party into the bathroom.
The little girls looked at me with total shock.

One recovered enough to say, “Let’s sit in the tub.” They all gleefully grabbed tea cups, petit-fours and eggnog and moved the tea party to the tub.
I left them to their own devices and closed the door behind them. The next morning as I gathered up to leave, I found their washed tea set drying on towels beside the bathroom sink
Party over, but the memories linger.


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