Saturday June 1st 2013
Oh Sweet Lord, I am so dreading the arrival of
ripe Raspberry. The Woo Mockingbird's three children have reached
the "Look at me, I might be a Vandal" phase of their time on earth.
It's that phase when a nose pin, or nipple ring, or a tattoo, or
expensive tennis shoes suddenly become appealing. And with
Mockingbirds, they can be as stubborn we are. Which means that I
might have to do a little foot stamping, and this is not easy thing for
me to contemplate, unless I have mash potato and at least three sausage
to look forward to.
No doubt it is a phase in her young
which the Woo Mockingbird also finds worrisome. And there is probably, a
sense in her that she can't wait to be rid of them all so that she might
croon with me as we work on the Outhouse and concern ourselves with Peach
Thieves. I guess too allowing her children free range in the Strawberry
reduces her burden, because she knows full well they'll be perfectly safe
under my charge. So I guess I became a grandfather sometime in March.
And I should be grateful I suppose when my grandchildren make believe they
are rabbits, and pretend to be quite incapable of flying over the Rabbit
fence. Which makes me feel not completely useless in defense of my own