"Papa."
"What, Honey." I took a big gulp.
"I've told you about that."
Lately she has taken after her Nana. She scolds me on my health. I truly don't believe I need the lectures as I'm a fine specimen of a man.
"About what, Honey, my tea drinking?"
She walks around so that she has a face forward attacking position. She places her little hands on her hips and reinforces her 'look.' I expect her next move to be the foot stomp on the tile attack...
"Papa, you don't drink enough water and I've told you to quit drinking so much tea." Like that.
"Little Bit, I drink a half gallon of water a day." Her, blink-blink, with those pretty drop dead brown eyes.
Then, "I don't see you drink water."
"Trust me, Sweetheart, I do, really."
Let's face it, sweet ice tea is the table wine of the South. I tell her such. She doesn't buy it.
I change my tactics. "Why do you want me to drink so much water, I love tea."
She changes her approach too. She walks over and hugs me. I wait and put my tea glass aside and hold her.
"Cause, Papa, I love you." I hear Sweet Wife sneak up behind us, quiet. I know she's waiting on the out come of this chastising my heart has given me.
Me, "I love you too, Honey, but what is it with this water campaign you and Nana have with me?"
Little Bit, "You 'member when you got sick last week when you cutted the grass?"
"Yes, I was just dehydrated, Honey, Nothing to worry yourself over."
"But Papa, what if the next time you don't get better and we can't wake you up and you goes in the hospital and the nurses and doctors don't fix you and then I won't ever have you again and then I won't be ables to come and see you and then I'll be all lonely and cry and I won't ever have a Papa again."
Just like that, fast and breathless and now the tears were flowing and I felt like crap. Behind me, slightly out of sight, I heard Sweet Wife, sigh.
I bent and looked Little Bit in the eye and said, "I'll drink more water, Honey, I promise."
In return, Little Bit wiped her nose on my shirt and said, "Pour out the tea, Papa."
I did.
Stephen
Iced Tea is the reason I am up three times a night.
ReplyDeleteCompromise? Promise her you'll drink only water before any hard work in hot weather. And just keep on loving on her, like you did.
ReplyDeleteMDR, me too.
ReplyDeleteRev. Paul, it's the sugar in the tea that has my wife and grandchild on my case. But, like you said, compromise should work. It isn't possible for me not to love that little girl. She is my reason to live and my heart.
I miss going to a restaurant and getting sweet tea. Anyplace that doesn't have it is in the unoccupied Yankee country. Or grits.
ReplyDeleteand MDR, getting up 3 times a night is a good way to check on the dogs to make sure the chickens and goats are ok.
Mudbug, I try my best not to wake up when I'm up so I can go right back to sleep. The problem with that is sometimes I might miss. (That's funny)
ReplyDeleteSadly, I do. Last night my wife and I had the same idea at 2:30 in the morning. She won. Only one bathroom at the house. I got to go out the back door. The stars were amazing, even saw a few shooting stars. However, I had to hold back the great pyrenees on patrol. He wanted to see what I was doing. Very awkward to water the grass and keep the dog away at the same time, in pitch black, half naked. Just thankful the neighbors are 1/2 mile away.
ReplyDeleteMudbug, I understand how you feel about missing ice tea. I've traveled this old world from sea to sea for many years and missed it greatly.
ReplyDeleteYour point about the goats and chickens was a good one.
MDR, paint a target on the bowl bottom. Works every time.
Stephen, I would have to turn the lights on and then open my eyes to see it. If I do all that then I might as well stay up and check the dogs and chickens.
ReplyDeleteMDR, use glow in the dark paint, like I did, and it's awful purty too. Besides those chickens and other critters need tending and you know it.
ReplyDeleteGood thing this computer sits on my desk in my office. Banter with friends is a heck of a lot more fun than helping my customers. Too many Socialists walking in my door; they're irritating.
Stephen,
ReplyDeleteI hope they don't flash mob you. I'd hate to see you on the news for having "taken care of the problem."
Mudbug - I've been close many times over the last few years to 'taking care of the problem.' Here in the Historic District I've had word from some that many of the locals are afraid of me. I seem to have garnered a reputation.
ReplyDeleteStephen, I don't know about the paint thing. I never really thought of it.
ReplyDeleteI don't think you have ever said what kind of shop you have. If you don't want to then I understand.
MDR, I can't give out those details. I would then indeed have a target painted on my back. Just joking of course about the paint. Having said that I have had customers walk into my shop restroom and fill the waste basket, no kidding. Had a guy, an older fella, water the walls. Patience is truly a virtue.
ReplyDeleteUnderstand buddy. I tend to give to much info sometimes myself. Never can be to careful though.
ReplyDeleteoh sheesh Stephen...sometimes i think you write these posts in order to give me a good cry every couple of days...as a woman, a good cry every few days keeps a "woman" in the right frame of mind or something...and then sometimes i think you write these posts to be a good granddaddy...and teach others how to be one too...you know how much i love your posts about survivalism and the books you are reading and all kinds of other stuff...but it sure is nice to know that there are still true gentlemen out there like you, Arsenius, MDR, Mudbug and few others of your readers...makes my heart swell - it does!!!
ReplyDeletekeep it up gentlemen...you will slowly affect the rest of north america and young patriots will know what a real "man" truly is...
thanks Stephen. You make my day with posts like this!
your friend,
stassja
Stassja, you are such a sweet lady and thank you very much.
ReplyDeleteNo, I do not write these notes of my conversations with Little Bit to make anyone cry. As a matter of fact I think of these notes as a record for my grandchildren to read, a chronicle, so to speak, of her life for that unforeseen day when I'm no longer a part of this earth. I want to leave these little bits of history so that she'll be able to read and reflect on the person who left just a shadow of himself on her life.
Stephen - she will remember all of these conversations with her granddaddy when she grows up! but the most awesome part of it is that she will, later in life, be able to read your memories of the same conversations - know what i mean? and you are no shadow my friend!
ReplyDeletestassja
Stassja, thank you.
ReplyDeletevery true--the memories will be so many,and probably cherished each and every time she reads them--now...wheres my hankerchief? Handmade by my great-greanmother with nice hand embroidery. She gave it to her husband to wear to church. I can't tell you how many times this man offered me this hankerchief when I was coming up and again in my adult life---good coversations and tears for the hanky as I got older remembering them!
ReplyDeleteTeri K, thank you, and very true.
ReplyDelete