August 14 – “A Pre-Birthday Feast”

Aaaand the Family Circus has officially begun.  Josh and Christi and their three boys arrived a little earlier than expected around noon yesterday, and the Vaughan house has not been the same since.  Well, at least not until around ten or so when we all went to bed.  The early arrival gave Luke a bit of a chance to acclimate to the new old people googly-eyeing him.  He went to Nani right away and his grin lit up the room.  He did make an acceptable transfer to my arms as well, but when I dutifully did my grandfatherly part and took him over to play with some of our toys, things changed.  He was OK until I actually put him on the floor beside me.  Then the bottom lip started to quiver.  He started looking over his shoulder, and the tears began.  Of course Mommy was there in a flash.  She told us that what I had done was exactly the same move the nursery workers make when they leave him at church – distract him with toys so Mommy can escape.  He was having a little post-traumatic stress flashback action.  As soon as he realized Mommy wasn’t going anywhere, he was back to his old grinny self. 

It wasn’t that far into the afternoon when Nathan and Cailyn and Kel and his entire crew arrived.  And the noise level increased by at least 500 decibels.  Actually I have no idea how to measure sound levels, so that may not seem too high.  I just remembered “decibel” from a crossword puzzle I worked the other day.  Suffice it to say, the house got noisy.  Fortunately for me, my job for the afternoon was to fry fish … outside.  I was able to escape the chaos for a minute or so at a time.  Gotta admit, though, it was fun to watch the constant motion in literally every direction.  Building Lego masterpieces.  Racing around and around in circles through the house (until Aunt Christina insisted they take it outside).  Climbing to the very top of the palm tree in the back yard.  Collecting snails and treating them to a free day at the beach (read here tossing them into the birdbath).  And speaking of the backyard, one creative event resulted in somewhat of a “problem.” 

It rained for a little while yesterday, really hard.  So hard that when Zak and Caleb and Luke arrived I had to meet them at the car with an umbrella.  So with rain comes mud.  And as everyone knows, mud carries with it a magnetic force that is impossible for little boys to resist.  And like the opposite end of that magnet, that force is just as repellant to little girls.  So what better way to entertain themselves than for the five boy cousins to chase the one girl cousin all over the back yard with mud on their hands demanding that she give them a muddy high-five?  That’s about the time I heard Cailyn insist, “OK, guys.  The rule is: No mud is ever to touch the hair.”  And then later, in a much more “insistent” (as well as somewhat winded) voice, “I took a bath before I came over here, so no mud on me.”  Things seemed to be going fine (at least from the guys’ perspective) when it came time to eat some fish.  The call to wash up came when I was back inside with the last load of fried shrimp.  In came Caleb … Josiah … Micah … Jachin … all dutifully heading toward the bathroom with smirks on their faces.  And finally Zakary entered.  He had mud, well, not just on his hands.  I heard him rather proudly report in to his Mom with something along the lines of, “I think there might be some in my ear.”  And following close behind him was Princess Cailyn.  But she was not so princess-y right then.  Mud was on her hands as well.  And her arms.  And her face.  And emerging from her mouth.  Her Dad took in that sight for a brief instant and began to comment, “Cailyn …”  But before he could finish, she took the offensive.  With a stomp of her feet and a raging in her voice she anticipated his remarks and beat him to the punch, defending herself with, “Well I didn’t throw mud on myself, Daddy.”  Classic. 

Genesis 40:20 says, “Now the third day was Pharaoh's birthday, and he gave a feast for all his officials.”  (See there?  Biblical confirmation of birthday feasts)

Father, thank you for the noise and non-stop, mind-blurring activity of eight grandkids in the house.  Amen.