Play Date

Hi, Dear Readers! It’s so nice to be back – even if it’s just for a brief visit.   For those of you who have missed Letter From Elba, bless you.   Here’s my “absence note.”

The world has changed so dramatically in these last few years- Covid, Politics, Possible Presidential Candidates for the next election, Ukraine, Proud Boys, the Insurrection at the Capital, looting, no punishment for looting… It’s all be so unreal and so troubling that I barely recognize it anymore.

And I’m not sure if I what I like to write has any meaning at all.

I’m no expert, pundit, political and/or societal insider with special knowledge.  I don’t want to waste your time- and eyesight- on everyday stuff that merely amuses -if I’m lucky- or makes no impression at all.

And let me just add that this has been a very demanding year personally and finding a moment to collect my thoughts- let alone write them down in a coherent manner- has been a challenge.

Thank you for sticking by very erratic me.  I appreciate your loyalty more than I can ever say.

A writer like me has to live Life to find inspiration.  I can not sit alone in a garret and just think deep thoughts.

And every so often, I stumble across something that I just have to share.

See the women in the post’s opening photograph?  It’s blurry, so just in case you don’t recognize all of them, they are Mackenzie Scott, Kamala Harris, Christine Lagarde, Mary Barra, Melinda French Gates, Abigail Johnson, Ana Patricia Botin, Ursula von der Leyen, Tsai Ing-wen and Julie Sweet.And they are – according to Forbes- the ten most powerful woman in the world- as of 2021.

Impressive, no?  But on my last visit to Seattle, I met the eleventh. (In order to protect her anonymity here, her name has been changed.  And there will not be a photo. Read on and you’ll see why.)

For the above reasons, let’s call her Kalista.  And she was, at the time, four years old.

She is my grandson Hendrix’s friend.  (And for security reasons- and under pain of taking down this entire site, my tech son Nick – who installed it- forbids me to put up photos of him- or any other family member.)

Just use your imagination.  They’re both pretty adorable.

Kalista is Chinese-American.  I mention this only because her grandparents were visiting Seattle from China at the same time that I was and it was a real pleasure to meet people who had actually travelled further than I did to get a glimpse of their descendants.

Kalista and Hendrix trade off visiting each other for play dates.  I happened to be on duty a day that Kalista came over to “our” house.

Missy, my daughter-in-law, was not going to be home.  Nick, who has worked from home for the last two years, was NOT to be disturbed as he was on a Zoom call with five different people in four different countries.

Missy had already filled me in on the essentials before she left the house: Some unsupervised (but still monitored by paranoid me from the living room) playtime in Hendrix’s room. No dog allowed.  (Kalista doesn’t like him much.)  Then some computer game time. Let them fight it out as to which games they want to play.  No lunch or snacks necessary.  Kalista’s mom would be back before lunchtime to get her.

Check, check, check.  Piece of cake.

Right on schedule, Kalista entered. She eyed the house warily and I reassured her that Frasier was dutifully contained and she could go directly into Hendrix’s room unmolested.

In Defense Of Frasier Sidebar: Frasier is not ferocious or life-threatening.  He’s just a rather large, obstreperous Bernese Mountain Dog mixed with Standard Poodle and a soupçon of Labradoodle thrown in for good measure.  When you add the disparate Dog Ancestory.Com parts up, you get an adorable designer mongrel who is large, hairy and extremely enthusiastic around small children.  He also thinks Hendrix’s only-child toy-infested bedroom is a perfect place to go shopping.

As I said earlier in this post, I left them alone but still sat poised on the living room couch ready to leap up- just in case my assistance or referee mode was needed.

Eight minutes into playtime, I heard a plaintive wail come from Kalista.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

OMG.

I had NOT signed up for this but hey, it was my watch so…

I flew into the bedroom.  As I started to escort Kalista (who was mercifully wearing a dress) to the bathroom, she stopped me dead in my tracks with a laser beam stare.

“Are you wearing wool?” she interrogated sternly.

“Uh…I don’t know.”

I was completely nonplussed by the seriousness of her demeanor.

“Are you wearing wool?” she repeated.

“Maybe?” I stammered.  “This sweater is wool, I think. It might be wool, I’m not sure exactly. It’s old, I don’t know…why are you asking me?”

“I am ALLERGIC to wool. You can’t touch me if you’re wearing wool.”

Nobody had mentioned this to me but one look into this kid’s cold, dead, f%^&*ing eyes told me she wasn’t messing around.

“I have to go to the bathroom. Now. Is it wool or not? ”

I started stammering again but she cut me off with contempt.

“All you have to do is read the label.”

Here was my problem.  First the sweater itself.

You will notice on the right hand side of the neck (my left) that this sweater is closed by eight teeny weeny hard-to-do-with-finger-nails, buttons.  I  just could not get the darn sweater unbuttoned while both kids were staring at me in wonder- and distress.  The pressure was making my hands tremble.

And second problem.

I couldn’t read the damn label without my glasses- which were God knows where at this point.

I took a wild guess and tore off the sweater and ran Kalista into the bathroom.

She could handle the toilet seat etc. part herself,  so I shut the door and gave her privacy.

And then another imperious command came from within the bathroom.

“Wipe me!”

OMG.

Not on your potential-child-molestation-charges life.

Instead, I calmly walked in, tore off a piece of toilet paper and handed it t0 her.

“Do it yourself,” I said.

She did with no problem.

Trust me. This kid could run the WORLD with no problem.

Maybe I have a candidate for the 2024 Presidential election after all.