The other day Cailyn and I were looking for
things with the magnifying glass. It’s
an old one that somehow survived Hurricane Ike, but it definitely shows that it
has been through the ringer. It is
pretty scratched up and dinged up, but you can still look through it and see a
grossly misshapen eye or use it to focus the rays of the sun and miraculously
start a fire or at least give a bug a suntan.
Speaking of bugs, that was where we
began. Always a winner. We searched the bed for bedbugs and the wall
for wallbugs. We looked for
ladybugs. We tried in vain to find some
ants or a spider. Of course I don’t know
how she would have reacted had we actually found something alive. She was acting the role of frightened leading
lady quite admirably without the assistance of an actual tiny little beast to
encourage her distress. We imagined many
strange and wonderful insects and pretended to look at them. I can still almost feel the miniscule
creatures scampering up and down my arm, making my hair stand on end and
bringing that uncontrollable, itching.
It soon became evident that the game was
drawing to a close. Interest was waning,
so I made a feeble attempt at revitalization.
I asked her if she had any horses in her ear. It certainly got a reaction. Her hand dropped to her side. Turned just a bit so that to look at me she
had to flip her hair out of the way and glance back over her shoulder. One eyebrow crept upward. The other edged downward. The edge of her mouth quivered just a bit on
one side – just enough to let on that her frown was not one of disapproval, but
of … perhaps incredulity? And after
taking a long moment to study me, to ascertain whether my question could
possibly be a serious one, she spoke her reply.
“DadDad. That’s just silly. I can’t have horses in my ear.” Not content to let the matter slide, I followed
up with, “But why? Why can’t you have
horses in your ear?” Didn’t take long
for her answer to leap forth on that one, “Because, DadDad, the horses are all over
here with the unicorns running up and down my leg.” Oh. Of
course.
I figured that meant the game was over and
we would move on to something else, but suddenly she said she had an idea for
something else to look for - “Eyeterdooders.” At least that’s what I heard. When I repeated it, though, she began to
laugh hysterically. Again. Being the wise older gentleman that I am, I immediately
grasped that I was perhaps slightly off in my interpretation of the sounds that
had come forth from her lips. Sure
enough, I was informed, “That’s not it, DadDad.” At this point she enunciated very slowly and
carefully, “Al-yi-ga-ders.” Ah. Of course.
Those crocodile-like things. They
do have a way of showing up at the most inopportune times.
Psalms 34:6 says, “This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all
his troubles.”
Father, finally a role I can identify with –
poor man with troubles. Thank you for
hearing when I call.
No comments:
Post a Comment