Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Who knows his Grandmother?

Did I mention that I am a Grandmother? What, you say? Surely not! Thank you for so kindly noticing that I don't look like a Grandmother. It is certainly a stretch to think that I'm old enough to be a Grandmother. However, a Grandmother I am, and quite proud of my grandsons, Death and Destruction. Ooops...their given names are Malcolm and Sean, but have a variety of little pet names that we call them. They answer to most of those names. If you are familiar with the concept of entropy, you would immediately recognize our little angels.

Malcolm is 11 and Sean is 10 and it is only by the grace of God and some tender mercies shown to them by their Granddaddy that they have survived to blow out so many birthday candles. They have more testosterone than the law allows and occupy their fair share in the lore of MolliWorld. They constantly test their boundaries by stomping all over my good nature and regularly do things that cause their long suffering Grandparents to ask, "Was that a good decision?"

One Sunday afternoon last spring, we took them out for lunch and went to visit Maple Hill Cemetery. Maple Hill is an interesting place and lovely in the spring when the dogwood are in bloom. Sean's Daddy is buried there, and we try to take him several times a year to visit the grave. The boys enjoy walking around and looking at the markers. There are many interesting and historic markers and we all enjoy the trips.

As we were leaving the cemetery grounds, Sean asked me if I was going to be buried at Maple Hill when I die. I told him that I would like that. Then, for sport, I did a dangerous thing. I asked them what they would put on my marker. Malcolm said that he would put musical notes on my marker, so that people would know that I sang while I was alive. What a good boy! Sean thought about it and said that he would put one of my favorite sayings on my marker. I broke out into a cold sweat, wondering what he was thinking. I'd be less than honest if I didn't tell you that they can be quite inspiring at times, and I *might* have used a colorful phrase or two when talking to them. But, ever the good sport, I asked Boy Wonder what saying that might be. He said, "Grandmother, I would put 'Don't make me call the Flying Monkeys' on your marker." Malcolm piped in and said that he really just didn't get what I meant when I said that to them. (He also doesn't really understand what I mean when I say that their Granddaddy has bail money so they better behave. He just knows that he's in the danger zone at that point and occasionally has the good sense to back off). Sean tried to explain the 'Wizard of Oz' reference, but Malcolm still didn't get it. Malcolm is a very literal kid. Finally, Sean said, "Mac! Grandmother is the Wicked Witch! Get it?"

I was laughing my head off at that point. Granddaddy bravely asked what they'd put on his marker and Sean grinned and said, "Don't make me call your Grandmother." Cheeky boy!

Guess what? I have a sign on my kitchen wall that says, "Don't make me call the Flying Monkeys".

Who knows his Grandmother?


Teri Lynne said...

Another great one. I love this story.

Teri Lynne said...

Sweet Mollianne, tomorrow (Friday) come by my blog to pick up your award!!! :-) Love you!