Grandparenting is Fun, Isn't It?

                                                 630 words



         Our grandchildren, seven year old Scarlett, and her three-year-old sister, Sarai, just came from Barstow for the weekend.  Because it was a beautiful sunny day, right away they went to the backyard to play. Then, they saw something better; the sundeck. They climbed the stairs and tried to find something to do up there.

         I was in the kitchen preparing pancit  for their lunch. From the corner of my eye, I saw white stuff flying down from the deck. I thought nothing of it but my husband, George, made a comment that the girls were throwing the Styrofoam from the torn water absorbers that he used to prevent rain from coming into  the covered patio.

         “I’ll go out there and check,” I said.

         “Tell them to pick up the Styrofoam strewn all over the grass,” he said.

         By the time I went to the patio, Scarlett and Sarai had come down already and they were playing in the backyard.

         “Scarlett, what did you do that for?” I asked.

         “I didn’t do it.”

         “So who did?” I pursued.

         “I don’t know.” Scarlett said.

         Turning to Sarai, who ignored me, I said,

         “How about you, did you do it?”

         “No. I didn’t,” she said.

         “O.K. Maybe it’s the ghost.  Would you help me pick them up later?”

         “Yes, Nana,” they both said.

         I let it go with that and left them playing for the time being because I had to finish what I was doing in the kitchen. 

         As I walked away I heard George order,“Girls, you pick them up.”

         “But, Papa, we cannot pick up the tiny, tiny ones,” Scarlett protested.

         “Do you want me to pick them up?” George said.

         The girls must have liked the idea because the next thing I heard was George opening the garage door. Then, I heard the vacuum cleaner hum in the backyard.

         After George was done vacuuming the Styrofoam from the yard, he came into the kitchen making a comment about Scarlett  - who swore up and down she did not throw those white stuff all over the yard from the sundeck.

         “Yes, it’s funny how Scarlett swears up and down that she didn’t do it. Even when she is caught red-handed, she vehemently denies doing something. I think, I’m going to write about it.” I got up to get a writing tablet and a pen as I was saying this.

         As I started to make notes, Scarlett walked in from the living room and said,

          “Nana, what are you doing?”

         “Oh, I’m going to write about two girls who were caught throwing Styrofoam from the sundeck, and denied it when asked.”

         “Who? Me and Sarai?”

         “Well, you want to help me write the story? Let’s just name them Michelle and Stephanie,” I said.

         “How about Samara and Stephanie?” she suggested, as she climbed on my lap.

         “Okay. Let’s start our story this way: Samara and Stephanie went up the sundeck to play. Papa and Nana noticed white stuff coming from there, and realized the girls were throwing the Styrofoam all over the yard. And they denied doing it.”

         With wrinkles on her forehead, Scarlett looked at me in disbelief. She seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it. So, I went on, “You know it is always good to tell the truth. Do you know why?”

         “Because telling a lie is disobeying God,” Scarlett, in deep thought, said.

         “That is true. Another reason is that if you are in trouble, and I am your defender, I cannot defend you effectively if you withhold information from me. So, always tell the truth. Your defender can get you out of the pickle jar quickly and painlessly.”

         “I’m sorry, Nana. I will tell the truth next time.”