My daughter loaned us her four children for a couple days. The invasion of the one to 10 year-old children included favorite blankets, pillows, clothes, electronic tablets and energy. Katie toddled around, checking out the house until she discovered the Pac-N-Play prepared for her. Her face lit up “I wan go night-nigh,” she lifted her arms to me. I hoisted her into the cage of fuzzy, warm blankets She laid down, patted the blanket, stood up, walked around patting the sides and laid down again before deciding she wanted a lift out.
Her big sisters and brother hauled suitcases to the spare bedroom. The room disappeared into a nest of suitcases and bedding. I closed my eyes, closed the door and went to fix supper. They weren’t staying long enough to quit being company.
Big brother Eli, came out sniffing and weeping quietly, “I miss my mom.”
“You can call her a bit later. For now help set the table,” I said.
Middle sister, Daisy, 5, came out, looked at him and said scornfully, “I’m not crying.”
“I know,” he sniffed and took silverware to the table.
At supper, Katie stood on her chair, inspected the food and declined most of it. I tried applesauce. She liked applesauce, until I slid a pea into it. She spat it out. I offered her applesauce and bit of carrot. She spat it out. The rest of the meal, she vehemently refused even plain applesauce. I backed off, she was not staying long enough to quit being company.
Caroline, 8, helped make cookies. Katie loves cookies.
At bedtime, Caroline pulled out the sound maker. I read a book to Katie, turned on the sound of the ocean and turned off the room light. Katie sank into her blankets.
From past experience, I knew to leave the sound maker on. I turned it off one time and her eyes popped open. She stood up, crying sleepily. I turned it on and she collapsed into sleep. In the car at nap time, I made the whooshing sound; her eyes closed and her head drooped with sleep.
If only Eli worked that way. He wanted his mom. In the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. His second day, I hoped to keep him too busy to think about missing his mom. I sent him outside to hand up items to his grandfather who was siding our house.
Eli still cried, “I want my mom.”
We gave him the phone. They talked at length. She assured him he would be okay.
And he was, as long as I answered his question, “When are we going home?”
The night before he left, I said, “Before we leave, ya’ll need to pack up your clothes and clean up the house so nothing is left.”
With Eli’s prompting, pushing, prodding and help, the toys returned to the toy cupboard and the suitcases filled with dirty and clean clothes. I have never seen kids clean and pack so quickly. They even swept the floor.
Eli awoke at 6 a.m. “Let your sisters sleep,” I whispered.
He played quietly, but he was ready to go.
“We can’t go until the others are awake and the suitcases are in the car,” I reminded him.
The suitcases flew into the car.
As he waited for Katie to rise and shine, Eli put away anything else I saw out of place. He also figured out and announced, “I only cried 12 times.”
His six-year old sister, Daisy, scoffed, “I didn’t cry at all.” He ignored her; he was going home to his mom.