I Am So In Love---Happy Buddha
Without Prejudice
I am so in love. I am dazzled and betwixted, bewitched, beguiled and bewildered. He's younger quite a bit younger, bur mature, loves me with a passion, wants kisses all the time. He doesn't speak as well as he might but that is coming. He knows what he is saying but it comes out as sweet almost pidgin English. He's 2, his name is Cruz and he rocks his Nanny's world.
He has always been like this. A baby to 6 older siblings, he's a puppy in a big brood and manages just to bumble along in his own determined way. I don't spend enough time with him, so have decided to change that as of Today. I can't miss a moment of this beautiful child growing up.
He pounds at my door everyday, his voice muffled by wood and wire, and calls, "mummy" or it could be Nanny.
I open the door to see him clung like a limpet to the fly wire. His hand on the locked handle, his toes edged up on the metal frame. He immediately climbs down and tries to rush the door as I swing it open, he brushes past me with out even a by your leave and stands Proud in the middle if the lounge room.
He points out every object in the room,
"What's that? What's that!"
He knows the dragon paperweight as Raarggh. He knows the star above his head is a star and the moon is a ball. He loves the Play Boot, pictures of Muumy as a little girl get a kiss. He loves the cars, trucks and planes in books. It's our ritual to go through several before he is satisfied. And I distract him with a piece of apple.
Just on dusk I take him for a hand in hand walk. We walk quickly to the main road, he tugging at my hand And he is running and laughing at having to tow me along. He waves and says Hallo to everyone. The teen boys off to a party with sly grog and a box of smokes so big you could put a handle on them and call them a handbag.
They call back to him, Hey Buddy, Hey Mate. He beams.
And jabbers away, then points at things, the lone star pricking through the velvet darkness of the twilight. Tomorrow promises more heat and he excitedly says,
" Moon "
I say no "star" and he looks for another. The street light is "Moon, not moon, light" and we stop and sniff at pretty flowers, "pretties" and sniffling noises. He runs again and tugs at me hand wanting to go faster, but I have bare feet and laughing beg him to stop.
An Indian family approaches and he beams and waves Hallo. A chubby little ambassador of Goodwill. They smile and hold up their children and Cruz is in 7th heaven, chattering away in the international language of child speak.
We meander back and he points out "home ". His parents both stood at the front door and are dying in large lumps of the dreaded flu. I had checked on them earlier and both resting. But when Cruz goes out of the house, they are up alert and alarmed. Where is he ???
They have run out to my unit and banged on the door, they know he is always with me. I apologise for my not letting them know I had him, but they were both comatose when I last saw them. But not now and not for Cruz. He is everywhere but never nowhere. He is jumping on the trampoline or swinging on the backyard tennis pole or playing cars with Acer.
Everyone adores him. He us our Happy Smiling Buddha that doles out smiles, kisses, hugs and plays tricks to make us laugh. If I haven't seen him for a while he demands to be let in, then proceeds to do rolls and flips on the white shag pile rug.
Showing off until I grab him up and threaten to eat him and pretend to gnaw at his arm until spent we both stop laughing. He is so male, so man cub, so strong and yet so vulnerable. I look at his older siblings as they troop out of bedrooms, eyes weary from all night computer marathons or movie nights, they grunt, forage for food, "real food" and knuckles scraping renter their man caves.
I wonder if our happy Buddha will do the same in 12 years or so and I know he will. But there is a shocking beauty in teen boys. A time when they are all legs and arms and their voices break and they start to attract females. Much to their horror. They have no time for girls, only mates, junk food, JB Hi, new games and avoiding showering.
I hug my grandson, Cruz close to me and together on the back stairs both of us in flannelette pyjama bottoms we gaze up at the enormity of the Universe and count the stars.
Love Nanny
I am so in love. I am dazzled and betwixted, bewitched, beguiled and bewildered. He's younger quite a bit younger, bur mature, loves me with a passion, wants kisses all the time. He doesn't speak as well as he might but that is coming. He knows what he is saying but it comes out as sweet almost pidgin English. He's 2, his name is Cruz and he rocks his Nanny's world.
He has always been like this. A baby to 6 older siblings, he's a puppy in a big brood and manages just to bumble along in his own determined way. I don't spend enough time with him, so have decided to change that as of Today. I can't miss a moment of this beautiful child growing up.
He pounds at my door everyday, his voice muffled by wood and wire, and calls, "mummy" or it could be Nanny.
I open the door to see him clung like a limpet to the fly wire. His hand on the locked handle, his toes edged up on the metal frame. He immediately climbs down and tries to rush the door as I swing it open, he brushes past me with out even a by your leave and stands Proud in the middle if the lounge room.
He points out every object in the room,
"What's that? What's that!"
He knows the dragon paperweight as Raarggh. He knows the star above his head is a star and the moon is a ball. He loves the Play Boot, pictures of Muumy as a little girl get a kiss. He loves the cars, trucks and planes in books. It's our ritual to go through several before he is satisfied. And I distract him with a piece of apple.
Just on dusk I take him for a hand in hand walk. We walk quickly to the main road, he tugging at my hand And he is running and laughing at having to tow me along. He waves and says Hallo to everyone. The teen boys off to a party with sly grog and a box of smokes so big you could put a handle on them and call them a handbag.
They call back to him, Hey Buddy, Hey Mate. He beams.
And jabbers away, then points at things, the lone star pricking through the velvet darkness of the twilight. Tomorrow promises more heat and he excitedly says,
" Moon "
I say no "star" and he looks for another. The street light is "Moon, not moon, light" and we stop and sniff at pretty flowers, "pretties" and sniffling noises. He runs again and tugs at me hand wanting to go faster, but I have bare feet and laughing beg him to stop.
An Indian family approaches and he beams and waves Hallo. A chubby little ambassador of Goodwill. They smile and hold up their children and Cruz is in 7th heaven, chattering away in the international language of child speak.
We meander back and he points out "home ". His parents both stood at the front door and are dying in large lumps of the dreaded flu. I had checked on them earlier and both resting. But when Cruz goes out of the house, they are up alert and alarmed. Where is he ???
They have run out to my unit and banged on the door, they know he is always with me. I apologise for my not letting them know I had him, but they were both comatose when I last saw them. But not now and not for Cruz. He is everywhere but never nowhere. He is jumping on the trampoline or swinging on the backyard tennis pole or playing cars with Acer.
Everyone adores him. He us our Happy Smiling Buddha that doles out smiles, kisses, hugs and plays tricks to make us laugh. If I haven't seen him for a while he demands to be let in, then proceeds to do rolls and flips on the white shag pile rug.
Showing off until I grab him up and threaten to eat him and pretend to gnaw at his arm until spent we both stop laughing. He is so male, so man cub, so strong and yet so vulnerable. I look at his older siblings as they troop out of bedrooms, eyes weary from all night computer marathons or movie nights, they grunt, forage for food, "real food" and knuckles scraping renter their man caves.
I wonder if our happy Buddha will do the same in 12 years or so and I know he will. But there is a shocking beauty in teen boys. A time when they are all legs and arms and their voices break and they start to attract females. Much to their horror. They have no time for girls, only mates, junk food, JB Hi, new games and avoiding showering.
I hug my grandson, Cruz close to me and together on the back stairs both of us in flannelette pyjama bottoms we gaze up at the enormity of the Universe and count the stars.
Love Nanny
