My father and my grandson have such a unique relationship. It is quite amusing to watch. This 69 year old man and three year old man-to-be, both with vivid imaginations, fighting, intensely, over an imaginary object.
My father has introduced my grandson to "Doughboy land." I have no idea why we dubbed this patch of hemlock "Doughboy land" it is long lost in the annals of family lore. Maybe #4 can chime in with where the name came from. No matter how hard it rains it used to be dry in Doughboy land, the trees grew so close together. Last December's storm took many trees out, rain now hits the needled floor, new shrubs are growing, but for the most part it is still a haven for play even during a rain storm.
Great grandson and great-grandfather take their daily walk through this grove as we watch through the drizzle from the safety of the gazeebo. They stop and consult. Grandson hands Grandfather something, pinching the fingers of his right hand together and cupping his left hand underneath. Grandfather receives the object in the same manner, taking the object by pinching the fingers of his right hand together and cupping his hands underneath. They both appear to have the object now. Grandson asks a question, Grandfather shakes his head no. Grandson nods his head, violently. Grandfather shakes his head no, violently. Grandson yanks on the object, hard. Grandfather yanks back. Grandson falls forward a little because Grandfather has yanked so hard. Grandson frowns and yanks harder. Grandfather lets go and grandson almost topples over. Grandson then throws the object on the ground. Grandfather reaches down and picks the object up and starts to put them on his feet, one by one. We cannot see the object. The object only exists in their imaginations!
They were "fighting" over a pair of lava boots! Grandson insisted that Grandfather didn't have any and had to agree to certain conditions before he could get his! Grandfather had refused the deal so Grandson threw the boots down in disgust. I asked my dad why he didn't just go to the fake store and buy himself a new pair of fake lava boots? He said the stor wasn't opened.
Yesterday they took another walk in the woods. It was a very short trip. Grandfather came back first, laughing. This time, he said, Grandson pushed past him and ran to the mound in the middle of the grove and then told Grandfather to wait.
Grandson, "You need a ticket to come here. No ticket, no island! "
Grandfather, searching through pockets and then producing an imaginary ticket, "Here you go!"
Grandson, taking imaginary ticket examines first one side, then flips it over and looks at the other side, "I'm sorry, this is not a ticket to this island."
Grandfather, "It isn't? What is it a ticket for, then?"
Grandson, handing imaginary ticket back to Grandfather, "I have no idea, I've never seen anything like it in my life!"
Grandfather, taking imaginary ticket, "It doesn't go to any of these islands?"
Grandson, "Nope, none of them. I've never seen a ticket like that one. Sorry, you just can't use it here. Bye!"
Grandfather put it in his pocket. He actually reached into his pocket to pull the ticket out so that he could tell me the story!
Sometimes, I worry about the two of them.
My father has introduced my grandson to "Doughboy land." I have no idea why we dubbed this patch of hemlock "Doughboy land" it is long lost in the annals of family lore. Maybe #4 can chime in with where the name came from. No matter how hard it rains it used to be dry in Doughboy land, the trees grew so close together. Last December's storm took many trees out, rain now hits the needled floor, new shrubs are growing, but for the most part it is still a haven for play even during a rain storm.
Great grandson and great-grandfather take their daily walk through this grove as we watch through the drizzle from the safety of the gazeebo. They stop and consult. Grandson hands Grandfather something, pinching the fingers of his right hand together and cupping his left hand underneath. Grandfather receives the object in the same manner, taking the object by pinching the fingers of his right hand together and cupping his hands underneath. They both appear to have the object now. Grandson asks a question, Grandfather shakes his head no. Grandson nods his head, violently. Grandfather shakes his head no, violently. Grandson yanks on the object, hard. Grandfather yanks back. Grandson falls forward a little because Grandfather has yanked so hard. Grandson frowns and yanks harder. Grandfather lets go and grandson almost topples over. Grandson then throws the object on the ground. Grandfather reaches down and picks the object up and starts to put them on his feet, one by one. We cannot see the object. The object only exists in their imaginations!
They were "fighting" over a pair of lava boots! Grandson insisted that Grandfather didn't have any and had to agree to certain conditions before he could get his! Grandfather had refused the deal so Grandson threw the boots down in disgust. I asked my dad why he didn't just go to the fake store and buy himself a new pair of fake lava boots? He said the stor wasn't opened.
Yesterday they took another walk in the woods. It was a very short trip. Grandfather came back first, laughing. This time, he said, Grandson pushed past him and ran to the mound in the middle of the grove and then told Grandfather to wait.
Grandson, "You need a ticket to come here. No ticket, no island! "
Grandfather, searching through pockets and then producing an imaginary ticket, "Here you go!"
Grandson, taking imaginary ticket examines first one side, then flips it over and looks at the other side, "I'm sorry, this is not a ticket to this island."
Grandfather, "It isn't? What is it a ticket for, then?"
Grandson, handing imaginary ticket back to Grandfather, "I have no idea, I've never seen anything like it in my life!"
Grandfather, taking imaginary ticket, "It doesn't go to any of these islands?"
Grandson, "Nope, none of them. I've never seen a ticket like that one. Sorry, you just can't use it here. Bye!"
Grandfather put it in his pocket. He actually reached into his pocket to pull the ticket out so that he could tell me the story!
Sometimes, I worry about the two of them.
1 comment:
Maybe we had never been to a hotel; in my mind (back then) doughboy meant bellhop?
but why would we call it doughboy?
we got to circulate, go "island to island" so we were checking in and out....i.e. bellhop. goodness, scary how the brain works. but that is how i truly remember it. it seemed so big and our private little place. who knew 35 years later we would still enjoy it?
love oh love the picture.
i'm pooped, but happy.
love ya #4
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