The boys had settled their energy down, after a silly made-up song sung directly to their toes, then to knees, legs, body, nose . . . the final refrain, “and the nose knows it’s time to settle down!” Who can guess where these spontaneous silly songs come from to fill the moment in a fun way? Grabbing their bare feet and talking directly to their toes as though crooning into a microphone . . . it really was hilarious watching the kids giggle at the antics, even without tickling. Somehow the need for personal attention is so fundamental to one’s growing, even speaking to toes feeds tiny souls.
The grands and I sat on the couch, all of us on our small screens, as the boys trounced video pits and falls, their sister did artwork on her iPad, and I tried to write, while mostly watching, oohing, ahhing and laughing with them. The boys were conquering, we girls creating. Meanwhile, Papa’s iPad softly closed, his recliner rocked back a notch, and the sound of his soft snoring merged with our granddaughter’s sweet singing.
Potatoes. Each and every one of us. Tumbled in a heap like a sack spilled out. What a blessing on a hot summer day to connect with our grands while their parents were elsewhere. To feed growing bodies and souls who are always hungry, not only with food, but with the nourishment that comes only from spending time being together, in close proximity, connected. To share laughter, questions, wonders. To just be. Such a satisfying and precious time . . . lumped together here on a couch in Idaho.