Y. & R. are visiting, my son and d-i-l, with the lovely HH, fondly called H-squared. HH is 16 mos. and as I watched her climb to get to a slide (with gusto) I thought to myself, well, she's got some of me in there somewhere, for sure.
I mentioned it to R. She laughed and said, "Have you seen her with clothes?"
So I wasn't so into clothes as a little kid. I preferred running around outside, which is a big HH thing, too.
Today I grabbed her early in the morning and we ran to the bank to make sure all kinds of checks wouldn't bounce. HH enjoyed the people at the bank and especially the shiny new tiles. She says Hi and ByeBye to everyone, plants and countertops included. She appreciates EVERYTHING and has the most amazing vocal inflections. You'd think her mother's an actor.
I thought it too soon to return her to her parents and wondered who I could visit at 9:30 in the morning. There aren't too many people who appreciate visitors at 9:30, but I gave my Aunt Goldie a call.
She was very surprised to hear from me. I don't call much.
"Are you dressed?" I asked. "I'd like you to meet your great, great grand-niece, HH."
"No, dear," she said, surely taken off guard. "I'm ironing and I'm in my nightgown."
No biggie. We talked a bit, then she said, "Well, maybe I'll just toss on a robe. Come on over."
So we did, and HH loved the tiles and the newness of my aunt's building, and the mirrored doors and pics of her cousins, who are also very little. Aunt Goldie made a case for Lucite frames.
After awhile, when HH got bored Aunt G. found a little porcelain doll. The bows on the doll are satiny and there's a little lace hat, and she has shoes that tie, and little pants under her dress. The doll's a serious hit.
The way HH examined every little detail reminded me very much of R., her mother.
"Where's Uncle Max?" I asked my aunt. I assumed he was still sleeping, or maybe watching t.v.
"He's at the office, of course," she answered, as in, Where else would he be?
Of course. My uncle's got to be late 80's.
We took off and in the car I played a mix. HH loved the rock and roll songs, Walking on Sunshine and Kiss Me, but when she heard Leontine Price sing the Puccini aria, The Swallow (La Rondine) she listened especially closely, closed her eyes, then opened them.
I had a tear in my eye- the aria is so beautiful. And when I took a peek back at my granddaughter at the stoplight I could have sworn-- she did, too.
copyright 2007, therapydoc
The blog is a reflection of multi-disciplinary scholarship, academic degrees, and all kinds of letters after my name to make me feel big. The blog is NOT to treat or replace human to human legal, psychological or medical professional help. References to people, even to me, are entirely fictional.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Journal-1
BringThemHome-the hostages in Gaza-NOW Journals tend to begin with a journey, like a vacation, or maybe a change in life circumstance. A mov...
-
You may have heard this TherapyDoc aphorism. Write it. Don't send it. See, we can be talking about something (you will, that is, while ...
-
Okay, people. If you've been reading me thus far you probably get that the sort of thing I referred to in the last co-dependent post inf...
-
ARTIST: Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe TITLE: I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face Lyrics and Chords [ Cdim7 = ; Edim7 = ; E+ = ] / C...
7 comments:
Aww! what a cute moment you shared with your grand-daughter and in an extended way with us.
Have you read something about children and classical music?.
Nope, but they grew up on it in my house. FD plays classical piano, mostly. I think my kids prefer Fatboy Slim, though.
they grow up soo fast dont they...
Soon HH will be a teenager asking for the car keys.
ROXY
She does like keys.
Thanks for sharing a beautiful morning!
I answered a meme a couple days ago, over at Jack's I think - songs that make you cry - "Cry' by James Blunt, Les Preludes by Lizst, and Carmina Burana (glorious!). Just a start :)
The Three Weeks are soooo hard!!
Good Shabbos :)
(Personal note - I understand if you edit/don't post this - esp. the last couple sentences, or just this one!)
For the benefit of those of you who don't know about the 3 weeks: there's a mourning period in Israel that corresponds to terrible events, including various sieges, suffering, expulsion and the destruction of the Holy Temple.
We're in it. No music, no swimming, a fast at the beginning and at the end, that sort of thing.
And no, it's not fun.
Post a Comment