Grandniece Millie came over to play.
Our home was the waystation for Dad’s drop off at 5pm and Mom’s pick up at 6:45pm.
Millie immediately spied Big Bird’s book – one and a half feet by three. She found the two bears and nine bats, but had trouble finding the twenty twiddlebugs. Anyone would. I mean who REALLY knows what twiddlebugs look like?
We stacked wooden circus elephants; balanced barrels on a rocking clown; banged Boomwhackers ‘in time’ to Justin Roberts’ music; and fished for sharp toothed plastic Piranhas on a merry-go-round with plastic fishing rods.
It wasn’t until we pulled out Winnie-the-Pooh’s Candyland that I became painfully aware of our age difference. Being two years and eight months old, I knew attempting to play the game was a fool’s errand. Understood. But Millie was immediately drawn to the little white plastic semi-circular stands that hold cardboard depictions lining the Candyland pathway. She could quite adeptly slip them through the slits. Great! We can set the pics up in order of the pathway.
The first one Millie placed was in Rabbit’s garden, where Rabbit grows peppermint sticks. She pressed cardboard Owl into that stand; the second – Piglet at Owl’s house; the third – Pooh flying with balloon, belly down and sideways, where Eeyore was to go; and finally, the victorious rainbow colored picnic scene, the glorious destination for all winners, Millie placed at the START!
And with each and every one of those painfully inopportune placements, I cringed, feeling both sides of my aching skull, and conjured a forced smile, managing to eek out, “Good job, Millie. Good job.”