We have fallen in love with the Kuehn’s verandah. It’s on the back of their house and, as the smallest room in the house, is really the place for hanging your laundry to dry. But, when the fan is blowing your wet clothes, it is even cooler, and thus an even nicer place to sit and read in the morning.
The other night, I was rocking Grant in the rocking chair out there, and we were talking about visiting his Grandparents in New England when we head home at the end of the summer. I was so glad for the lure of New England that made him stay in my lap and be rocked when he is normally a busy 3 ½ year old. And then, as I invariably do, I thought of the 66 orphans next door, who never had a mom to rock them or a chair to be rocked in, and my mind was racing with how I could give them some one-on-one attention like that.
You’d think it would be an easy task, but the problem is nothing is ever one-on-one in this country—when there is an accident between two cars, there are still 50 people involved, and when you are asking one child a question, you get answers from five. It is also like this with hand-holding—you don’t hold hands with one; there are two holding EACH hand, and at least one on each arm and you walk down the verandah as kind of group huddle rather than next to each other. So you understand my quandary. And then, yesterday, it happened.
I didn’t know it, but Jolie-didi had declared it “nail-cutting day.” I quickly seized my opportunity to sit across from her with each child on my lap, and while she did the trimming, I did all the back-rubbing, arm-stroking, and holding I could pass along to each one, one at a time. It was priceless, and I just have to wonder how often we do this “nail-cutting day”; because it’s really a good set-up.
The other night, I was rocking Grant in the rocking chair out there, and we were talking about visiting his Grandparents in New England when we head home at the end of the summer. I was so glad for the lure of New England that made him stay in my lap and be rocked when he is normally a busy 3 ½ year old. And then, as I invariably do, I thought of the 66 orphans next door, who never had a mom to rock them or a chair to be rocked in, and my mind was racing with how I could give them some one-on-one attention like that.
You’d think it would be an easy task, but the problem is nothing is ever one-on-one in this country—when there is an accident between two cars, there are still 50 people involved, and when you are asking one child a question, you get answers from five. It is also like this with hand-holding—you don’t hold hands with one; there are two holding EACH hand, and at least one on each arm and you walk down the verandah as kind of group huddle rather than next to each other. So you understand my quandary. And then, yesterday, it happened.
I didn’t know it, but Jolie-didi had declared it “nail-cutting day.” I quickly seized my opportunity to sit across from her with each child on my lap, and while she did the trimming, I did all the back-rubbing, arm-stroking, and holding I could pass along to each one, one at a time. It was priceless, and I just have to wonder how often we do this “nail-cutting day”; because it’s really a good set-up.
