Stubborn Old Boy

Words: 1297

"And above all, remember, your grandpa is eighty-nine years old," my mother concluded.

"Yes, Mom," I intoned. I waited for the rest of the sentence, ' ... you must watch over him at all times ...', but on this, the fifth-time-around-lecture, it didn't come.

I enjoyed spending a few weeks every summer with Mom's parents, but this year it was going to be different. It was my first long visit since Grandma's passing. I'd miss her for sure. And, since I was there, I'd watch over Grandpa. Nobody watched over him full time any more, he just had a lady who came in to do the cooking and housework, and neighbours who were a phone call away. He wanted it that way, the stubborn old boy. (That's what my Dad called him and I think my Mom privately agreed, though she didn't say it aloud.)

Anyway, he had asked me to stay as usual in the summer, and my bag was packed. Uncle Rick was going to pick me up and drop me off, so Mom had to do her last minute lecturing as we waited on the front porch. But oddly enough, she was silent for a while before the green Ford Fiesta drove up and I heaved the bag in and climbed in myself, to Uncle Rick's "Hi ho, ready to go?"

Uncle Rick wouldn't stay to tea, he simply waved at Grandpa from the driver's seat and was off again as soon as I had disembarked from the car. I went in, washed up and Grandpa and I sat down to the sandwiches and milkshake Mrs. Harris had made in readiness for my arrival.

As per Mom's instructions, I watched Grandpa closely. "What're you doing?" I asked, when I saw him fiddling around with his old wrist watch.

"Setting the alarm," he responded.

"What do you need to wake up for? You don't go to work or school or anything."

"Aha." The stubborn old boy's eyes gleamed. "There's more than school that can teach a person things."

"You're learning something?"

"I started after your Grandma died, I did. She was a good wife, but she disapproved of some things. She wouldn't have liked this. But I bet she's looking down and smiling on me anyway, the dear, since she doesn't have to clean up the mess."

Early rising? Grandma disapproving? Mess?

"Grandpa, what are you learning, exactly?"

"I love you, and I confide in you, but you must swear upon your last mug of strawberry milkshake that you won't tell a soul."

I put one hand on my strawberry milkshake and quietly crossed two fingers of the other behind my back. If it was something too awful, I'd have to tell Mom so precautions needed to be taken while making the promise. "I won't tell," I muttered.

"I am going to wake up at 4 AM to study the courting habits of the wild toads."

"The what of the what?"

"Courting habits, you know, love, romance - of the toads on that little hill. They make a heck of a sound at 4 AM, I think it's when they woo their girlfriends, getting them to marry them."

"Grandpa!"

"Last three mornings I've been out before dawn, but the blighters have eluded me. Now with your sharp eyes and ears, we'll find them and learn how they get themselves a mate."

"We?"

"We. It'll be fun. You can pick up a few tips for when your senior prom comes up and you have to snare yourself a date."

"Grandpa!"

*********

4 AM. I'm sure the stars above were very pretty, but I was too busy closing my eyes to yawn, to appreciate their beauty. I had to accompany the stubborn old boy, I had to watch over him at all times.

He was right about the din the toads were making. We couldn't hear ourselves think or whisper. We couldn't hear our own footsteps - and neither would the toads, he hoped.

After ten minutes of tramping through damp fields, we reached the hill and began to climb. Grandpa risked his flashlight for a few seconds, to see our path. We'd been depending on starlight and moonlight on level ground.

But it was a mistake.

At the first flash of the light, the sounds ceased. It was like the hill was completely toad-free, when we were sure it was, in fact chock full of toads of both genders.

"We'll find 'em anyway," came a hiss in my ear. "Just you stay still."

We waited, hardly daring to breathe. One minute ... two ... three ...

It took a quarter of an hour, and then the orchestra began again. We moved forward without the flashlight.

I squeezed Grandpa's arm (the agreed signal). I pointed. There was no mistaking it, there was a large toad there. He was clearly visible in a shaft of moonlight. So rapt was he in what he was doing, he didn't notice us, which was very lucky for us.

Mr. Toad swelled up and uttered a guttural song. He then picked his left hind leg up and bumped it on the floor, thrice. Another quivering note and another foot-tap, right hind leg this time. This was repeated till all four limbs had tapped.

To our delight, we heard an answering toad-song. And out of the bushes pranced Mr. Toad's lady love. She uttered her consent and crouched in readiness. With a single joyful 'crrrk', he had leapt on to her back. In a few seconds, their eyes became glazed. They were in the moment. They would notice nothing for a while.

Grandpa had his glass jar ready and he was surprisingly smooth. The courting amphibians didn't even seem to feel it as they were trapped and carried off, they were so intent on what they were doing.

"We're going to hatch us some toad babies in the bathtub," he chuckled, as we headed back home to the full beam of the flashlight.

"Bathtub?"

"That's the part your Grandma would've disapproved of. Do you think toad babies are called 'toadpoles', instead of tadpoles?"

The stubborn old boy, having got his prey, was in a raring good mood. We got home and emptied the courting couple into Grandma's bathtub. I hadn't been in that bathroom yet this visit, but now I realised the bathtub had been lined with mud and moss. So Grandpa had had this planned all along. It all fitted in now, him plotting for Uncle Rick to drop me instead of Mom bringing me ... naturally she'd notice the - er - modifications (or shall I say mudifications and mossifications) to the bathroom!

"Only this left," Grandpa said, as we exited the bathroom. He was holding a small matchbox in his hand. Just before closing the bathroom door, he opened it and released the contents in. There was a buzzing sound.

"Flies," he explained. "Live flies, for the toads to eat. I'll have to catch more and put them in, she'll be hungry when she's pregnant."

We closed the bathroom door and went to the kitchen. I scrubbed my hands and face with soap and water and made sure Grandpa did the same. (it felt odd, being the parent here.)

Then we sat down to an early morning snack of bread and honey. Grandpa deliberately spilled some of the honey, "to attract more flies". The snack done, we went to bed for a couple of hours of sleep.

It was a strange tapping sound that woke me. I got out of bed and listened. The tapping sound was coming from Grandpa's room. I peeped in, unnoticed. He was tapping his left leg on the floor, three times. Then "Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Harris," he sang, in a guttural voice, and tapped the right leg, three times.

This stubborn old boy was going-a-courting!

Character Prompt for May 2023: ▼

An opsimath is someone who begins to learn or study only late in life.
Write a story about an opsimath of an unusual field or subject matter

"What A Character - May 2023 Winners!" 
First Place - "Stubborn Old Boy"