THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, March 17, 1995 TAG: 9503150144
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 10 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: OVER EASY
SOURCE: JO-ANN CLEGG
LENGTH: Medium: 90 lines
Dear Alex,
Hey, Kiddo, it's just your grandma checking in to let you know that she got back to Virginia Beach safe and sound and that she misses you.
Those four days with you were the best vacation I've had in a very long time, even if we did stay busy all the time doing those things that your mom does around the house when she's not away on business.
I especially enjoyed our story telling sessions. It's nice that you're interested in the little piggies, the farmer's dog named Bingo and the dish that ran away with the spoon. So was your dad at your age. I can't believe that was more than 30 years ago. By the way, I'm glad we made that agreement not to tell your mom and dad every little thing that happened while I was there.
I can't think of any pressing reason why we should upset them over that minor flood in the basement. At least it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
After all, most of the suds did run down the floor drain before they did any real damage.
I guess I should have checked to see if there was anything in the sink before I started the washer but I just never gave it a thought. The way I look at it, it probably was your dad's fault anyway. He's the one who left the bucket with the cleaning rags in there.
At least it didn't cause as much damage as the time he left a green crayon in his shirt pocket when he was 10. By the time I found it, it had ruined your Uncle Bill's gym shorts, your Uncle John's Scout uniform and seven of your grand-dad's best shirts.
While we're on the subject, there are a couple of other things we ought to forget about. I know you thought it was funny when I ran the front bumper of the Honda up onto the curb. I mean everyone in the shopping center must have heard you giggling when the car made that funny scraping noise.
At least there wasn't any serious damage, none that was visible to the naked eye anyway. If your dad brings it up, plan to turn the tables on him and ask about the night he came home with dents in both the front and the back bumpers of Granddad's Pinto. I've always wanted an answer to that question.
Now about the kitchen floor. I really do feel bad about that. I can't believe I grabbed the cleaner that said ``not for wax-free floors'' instead of the one that said ``for use on wax free floors.''
By the way, Kiddo, I think it might be better if when you start saying real words that you not repeat the one I said when I discovered my mistake.
I'm afraid your dad might remember that I used a little dab of Dial soap on his tongue the first time I heard him say it.
As far as the other flood, the one with the bottle of formula, is concerned, I've already confessed to that. I had to. Your dad caught me in the middle of washing your infant seat cover, your blanket and a big stack of milky clothes (yours and mine) when he came home from work that evening.
I guess I just don't understand these fancy
new baby bottles. When your dad and uncles were your age all I had to do was fix formula, pour it into nice clean glass bottles and screw the tops on.
Now you have to take some sort of plastic tube that's open at both ends, attach a specialized kind of bag (which is two millimeters too small for the opening) and aim the formula into a hole about the size of a pencil. OK, so I missed. And the bag wasn't quite centered in the tube. So what's the big deal? Eight ounces of formula all over you, me, your seat and the sofa isn't all that bad.
Especially since Leaf gave us a hand by licking it off the upholstery before it had a chance to soak in.
Speaking of Leaf, I honestly was concerned about the day I got my hands crossed and fed you several licks of Frosty Paws and her a couple of ounces of formula before I realized what I was doing.
No harm done, I guess. You laughed at that, too.
Just one more thing, Little Man. It's about that trip we made to the grocery store. I don't think Mom and Dad need to know all the details about us going in the wrong direction on 395 and not realizing it until we were on the 14th Street Bridge. Thank goodness I still can find my way around Southeast Washington, even if the neighborhood down by the Navy Yard has changed quite a bit in the last 20 years.
Oh well, it was a nice day for a ride. Especially when we hit that path of black ice under the overpass and I had to use my emergency skid techniques to get us straight again. You sure have a hearty laugh when you're having fun.
I can hardly wait until I get another call to come and take care of you. Until then, keep giggling. It's great for body, soul and wrapping your grandma around your little finger.
All my love to you, your mom, your dad and Leaf.
Grandma by CNB