She is the fourth in a family of five and shall be five years old in September.
It was her “turn” to come and visit Pappy and the pool and the candy store and– oh yes– the home made ice-cream shop.
We have incentives here at Chez Pappy besides the ol’girl herself.
She brought her Polly Pocket miniature plastic “dolls” (if dolls that look like showgirls can be called “dolls”) but she was quick to tell me, “I brought the ones with clothes, Pappy.” When I play with these fashionistas at her house, they are often in bathing suits or skirts that go up to their waist. Pappy has been known to grumble about Polly Pockets shameful lack of attire and insistent state of blondeness. She couldn’t bring any brunettes because there aren’t any period case closed. There is a strawberry blonde, however. When we play with them, she’ll often start the play by picking dolls (she picks first because she’s the boss) and after I pick mine, she’ll begin their dialogue by saying, “You are beautiful” to my doll.
My grumbling begins.
“I’m more than just a pretty face, you know,” I say back to her through my mini-skirted call-girl . “I’ve had hard times. That’s why I can’t afford dresses that go to the knee.”
She looks at me as in the above photo. If I was holding a steaming turd, I swear to you she’d look the same way at me. “What is your problem, Pappy?” as if ‘ I just told you were beautiful. What else do you want in life?”
So, I’m not exactly totally malleable as you can see. I need additional “visiting-incentives”.
The pool comes with occasional frogs and at least one mouse (see my You Tube movie if you simply have to see for yourself) and that totally makes up for my limitations as a play mate. I also do not grumble in the water.
At the ice cream place, I let her get a “cone” instead of a dish which of course no parent in their right mind would do as it is a guaranteed waste of the ice cream as it either falls directly to the ground as it is waved around while telling a story or melts in the July heat before three licks.
But, where I shine is as a flower and “omato” grower. She likes to pick those “omatoes” and water the always thirsty flowers and her favorite vegetable is the Brussel Sprout plant which she pats like a dog but would not eat even if I held her Polly Pockets as ransom.
She watched me eat my braised Swiss Chard for dinner while holding her nose. She didn’t like the smell as I’d braised the dark leafy fronds in garlic. She has a very sensitive nose and could be used as canary in the mine if the world could afford to lose her which it most definitely can not so I just got up and took my dinner into my bedroom because she couldn’t eat her dinner of nuggets and noodles with one hand clamped on her nose.
She has popular songs running in her head 24/7. Currently, she is singing a song by “Train” and a “Taylor Swift” song. How do I know? The lady in the next booth to ours at breakfast complimented her on her choice of songs as we got up to leave. She said they were her favorite songs, too. So, I asked her who sang them as I had no idea.
On the way home, we listened to some Beethoven and she seemed quiet and dreamy. As soon as I turned it off, her singing soundtrack started up, “She doesn’t get you like I do”. La la la.
She asked me to put the radio to KISS 108 which on my dial is 107.9. I grumbled. If the station is 108 why is it 107.9 for God’s sake and on an on.
Immediately, she started singing along to another song. Except this time, I knew the song as her twelve year old sister had pointed out this song a few weeks back on our return ride home from her visit. It is by Rhianna and Enimem. The words include “I love your lies” and “don’t mind if you tie me to a bed.”
Whaat? Well, you can imagine Pappy’s reaction.
I went off like a heat-seeking missile to her twelve year old sister who just laughed and laughed and waited till I had crashed and burned (tangent wise not driving wise), calmed down, and then said, “Yeah, but don’t you think she’s got a good voice, Pappy?”
So, as I listened to the four almost five year old singing every blasted word of this song, I held my nose in Pappy Protest.
I can drive with one hand on the wheel.
©Pat Coakley 2010
PHOTOGRAPHY CANNOT BE USED WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION.
••Select photographs from this blog and my wider archive can be purchased or licensed at www.patcoakley.com
Don’t worry, Pappy, look on the bright side. She’s not tying her dolls to the bed, is she?
O, Pat, that is one frightening thought!
I have a just-turned 4 year old who had as her favorite song for what seemed like an eternity the Justin Timberlake/Timbaland song “Carry Out.” Listen to it. You’ll feel better about your little one. Of course, she thought they were singing “Tummy Out” at which point she would raise up her shirt and poke her belly out like a beer swilling redneck.
Good luck, Pappy! She sounds an awful lot like my Max: Adorable, but keeps me on my toes! Your photograph is wonderful. I’m sure it can’t hurt having a beautiful subject. :)
Thanks for your comment. It is impossible to take a bad photograph of this child!
Sweet picture with great light, sweet story. Don’t you wonder about all those subliminal messages, though (tie me to the bed), that they absorb through the years of growing up — to the point that those things seem normal. What a contrast to Polly Pockets — or maybe not.
Donald, that is exactly what I worry about…these aren’t even subliminal messages…they are right out there AND memorized for God’s sake!
Don’t worry about the music – Next week it’ll be another favorite song. Trust me! I sat in the tub last night just listening to my 9 year old sing along with that very same Taylor Swift song, then she switched to a song she learned at her summer youth program and then to a Rascal Flatts tune, and finished off with an old Hannah Montana song and a sweet rendition of Jesus Loves Me. And I couldn’t help but smile!
By the way that child is gorgeous! And soon the Polly Pockets will seem tame compared to the issues of the middle school crowd! But you know that already!
Take care my dear!
Thanks, arynsmom! I feel like Junior High might precipitate dementia in Pappy! Stay tuned!
Pat- you know that top drawer keepsake place you have next to your bed where you keep the ditties that register in your psyche?
I recommend that you take this piece, this dedication to the protection of this sweet child’s being, print it out, seal it in plastic and give it to her with the expectation that she must read it from her twelfth birthday on until marriage.
She will always know how loved she is and where her DNA comes from.
It’s scary thinking about the lyrics and innuendo of music that’s performed by 17 year olds for the consumption of 6 year olds.
I have read this post twice Pat. Once laughing and once with amazement at the life a near five year old. She’s a beauty, she is. And what a lucky girl to have such a great Pappy as you.
Wait till this adorable, Pappy adoring soon to be 5 year old becomes a 15 year old.
Can’t wait to read that post. :)
Wow! You captured Grandpa and Grandaughter, beautifully. I agree with Bonnie. This needs to be printed and saved for that little girl! You Rock, Pappy!
Ah, leslie, I have laughed for days over your comment about “grampa and grandaughter”, the name clearly being a masculine one so I totally get it but I am a girlz, my dear– BUT listen to this! One day when my first grand niece was 4 (she is now the 12 year old who endured the Rhianna and Eminem rant on the way home from a visit) and I took her to see “Spirit” a movie about an Indian boy and a stallion, she turned to me in the theatre and said, “Pappy, are you a boy or a girl?”
I was 56 at the time (65 now) and had never been asked that question before in my life. I gulped out, “Girl”, and she turned back to the movie satisfied.
I still wonder what prompted that question. The horse had a lovely tail.
Please accept my apology. I did not read your “about” page, just made an assumption because of the “Pappy” and my grand daughter calls her grandpa Papa. That won’t happen again.
Leslie! No apology needed, honest! I can’t even read my “about” page. It’s due for an update and some editing!
LOL. I enjoyed reading your post. My niece also plays with those polly pocket things. Those are minature barbies basically, not dolls.
I recall listening to songs when I was younger, but it was the tune that I liked. I didn’t even hear the words nor understand them. When I listen to them now as a grown up I am amazed that I listened to them as a child. What was I thinking?
Of course, my doll play wasn’t anything like Ken saying to Barbie, “You’re beautiful.” It’s more like Ken searching for Barbie because Barbie just got kidnapped by GI Joe. Or Barbie was having an affair? Did I really know what an affair was? LOL
Barbie had an affair in your playtime? With Ken? He didn’t know he was gay? Toy Story 3 had a fall down on the floor sequence about Ken and Barbie. Yes, Toy Story 3 as in Pixar.
WE MISS PAT, WE MISS PAT……( your fan base is speaking, well, I’m speaking for all of us. )
Bon Bon! I dunno what’s goin’ on. I’m tired of my own voice. I think I may have to image my way out of this whatever it is…no depression, no anxiety or jitters as in the past, just boredom with my opinions.
Everyone should be allowed to hold their nose in protest.
A million people holding their nose would probably be more effective than all that placard holding, yelling, and marching stuff.
Amen, PR. At the count of three, universe, let’s all hold our nose at our respective rants, and give the world some silence. One…two…three!