This weekend, we took a little trip up to the northern part of our state to visit Sean’s grandfather and his wife. Gramps and Jean moved to a Masonic community there about a year ago, leaving behind the warmth of Florida to do so. Between a busy life on our part and health issues on theirs, we have only been up to see them a few times. We were excited to have the opportunity to visit.
During the twenty-four hours that we were with them, Gramps and Jean were incredibly hospitable. They took us out to dinner. They bought my kids a big set of Lincoln Logs to play with (huge hit!), they made pancakes for breakfast and Sean’s favorite homemade macaroni and cheese for lunch, they made sure that the kids got to go fishing in the pond behind their house. We had a great time.
The fishing was especially great for the kids. They have only gone fishing one other time, a couple of Christmases ago, and they didn’t catch any fish. This time, though, the fish were biting. We had twenty-four worms and a few slices of bread. They caught four bass and goodness knows how many bluegill. Don’t worry–they were all released to taunt the old men in the community who apparently never catch them despite the latest and greatest lures.
While we were thrilled that the fish were biting, I’m probably lucky that this sickly-looking fellow didn’t.
That’s right, give me a decent camera and I turn into Katie–Wildlife Photographer. I was probably only twenty or thirty feet from the coyote when I was taking the pictures. Honestly, the fact that he didn’t run away before or while I was snapping photos was probably a bad sign–healthy animals don’t stick around. When he did leave, though, he seemed to be moving alright.
As the time approached to leave, Sean was packing up the car. Gramps was helping Sean strap the fishing poles to the luggage rack. The boys were out “helping” them along. Gramps started to tease W~, telling him that he was going to strap him to the top of the car, too. W~, in a failed attempt to kid back, said, “If you do that, I will kick you in the private parts.”
There is nothing like having your three-year-old threaten his great-grandfather with a swift kick to the gonads to make you feel like a great parent.
If I weren’t dealing with the worst migraine of my entire life at that point, I may have melted into the floor from embarrassment. But that would have required some movement on my part, which would have left Gramps both threatened and cleaning up vomit. Honestly, W~ could have made good on his threat and I maybe would have grunted something resembling disapproval at that point before hiding my face from the searing light gleaming off of his devilish little eyes.
Sean had to deal with the mortification alone.