November 10 – “What’s a Yap?”

 

 

I love the creativity of children.  It inspires me.  It invigorates me.  It amuses me.  It  … confuses me.

 

I got to be a part of one of Cailyn's imaginative escapades the other day.  It was a game of sorts.  It came out of nowhere.  I was taking a break from King Xerxes and Mordecai and Esther.  I casually entered the kitchen to see what was going on in the rest of the house.  Cailyn saw me and her eyes lit up.  That was always a scary thing when her Dad was little.  Never knew what he had come up with.  She is her Daddy's little girl.

 

She ran over to me with excitement oozing from every pore in her body.  She grabbed my hand like she had been waiting for me all day and said, "DadDad, we have to go find Rosie."  And so the game began.  Searching for Rosie.  I have no idea who Rosie is.  But it was obviously quite urgent that she be found.  And she could be hiding anywhere.  We crept through the house, searching under couch cushions and behind books on the bookshelf.  No Rosie.  She didn't appear in the family room.  Or the front hall.  She was not in my office.  "Where are you, Rosie?" Cailyn sang out, over and over.  I was mystified.  I was entranced.  I fully expected Rosie to pop out any second. 

 

Then, suddenly, Cailyn bolted away from me like she was being chased, hollering over her shoulder, "Come on, DadDad.  We have to go here."  And where was here?  Under Chris' built in desk in the kitchen.  Back behind the trash can.  Not one to question the orders of my superior officer, I obediently followed.  We curled up together in those very cramped quarters, me wondering what crisis had driven us to such extremes.  I didn't have to wonder long.  Cailyn announced that we needed to be very quiet so Boy couldn't find us.  Ah.  There it was.  Boy was the imaginary friend that Kel and Josh both played with.  Boy somehow missed showing up with Nathan, but he was back.  But sounded to me like he was competing with Rosie for Cailyn's time, and Rosie was winning. 

 

After just a few seconds Cailyn remembered something.  She darted out from behind the trash can and grabbed her bag and her extra shoes and a latex glove Nathan had blown into a turkey-shaped balloon.  All these she shoved into our tiny hiding place, I guess so there would be no trace of our existence should Boy show up.  She started to join me, but suddenly stopped again.  She ran back to the office and grabbed a cap that was on the floor.  "Here, DadDad.  This is for you."  I quickly slipped it on my head backwards.  And Cailyn followed.  She crawled over my legs and the bag and the balloon until she was cozily established in her spot next to me, leaning against the wall.  Finally, she looked up at me.  I thought maybe I was about to have some sweet granddaughter to Granddad moment that I could cherish forever.  Indeed, she spoke.  Reaching up for the cap on my head, she whispered, "No, DadDad.  It goes the right way."  Well, I could see right away that that fashion faux pas had to be corrected. 

 

Once the hat fiasco was attended to, she looked me over once again.  I felt like it was inspection day in the military.  Finally, she pointed and said something that sounded like "Yap.  She's in yap."  Now that sounded quite important, so I pressed the issue the only way I knew how.  I repeated it, "Yap?  What's a yap?"  That brought on the look of frustration that borders on pity as she patiently and more slowly repeated, "It's yap, DadDad.  Rosie is in your yap."  I got it.  Lap.  A yap is code for lap.  How could I not know that?  "Oh.  So Rosie is sitting in my lap?"  Shaking her head at my incompetence, she condescendingly, yet gently, replied, "Yes, DadDad.  Yap.  Rosie is in your yap in her car seat."  Rosie in my lap – in her carseat – under the desk – behind the trash can – amid the bags and balloons and shoes and caps.  I don't know where Chris was, but had she been there, I feel certain a photo history of the event would have been recorded.  Now no one would ever know. 

 

Except … about that time her Daddy arrived to pick her up.  Daddy's home.  See ya, Rosie.  Game over.  Somebody help me out from under this desk. 

 

Ecclesiastes 7:10 says, "Do not say, 'Why were the old days better than these?'  For it is not wise to ask such questions."

 

Father, help me to focus on what you are doing right now and not get lost in worry about what happened in the past.  Amen.