Ted’s at Tahoe, so the weekly Friday Tilden hike didn’t took place. Instead Jadyne and I left home by 7:30 and headed east to Sacramento for Grandparents Day. As usual, I had no idea what was going to take place this Friday. I just knew that I was to show up. We arrived at 1370 Weller Way at 9:00, fifteen minutes before Lillian, Jadyne, and MaryAnn Slater were to go to “high tea” at Lillian’s kindergarten class, an event that was scheduled to last a painfully long two and a half hours. “David,” Kim said, “It’s a day for you with Kennedy. He has a cold, but I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”
Turning to Kennedy, who was whining when we arrived, Kim asked, “Kennedy, would you like to go to the park with Granddad?” “No!” "Go on the swings?" “No!” “Go for a walk in the neighborhood?" “No! he wailed, “I want to go with you.” Kill me now. Three hours with a sick, whiny three-year old who doesn’t want to do anything.
“Kennedy,” Kim implored, “How would you like to go to Fairytale Town?” “Ok,’ he said, mostly under his breath.
Armed with the Buchholz family pass for Kennedy and a $4.75 admission for me, I plopped Kennedy into the car seat and drove the mile or so up the road to Fairytale Town, a fifties style amusement park for toddlers and pre-schoolers. A two seater pumpkin on wheels led by four tethered horses (Cinderella), a slide down a giant old lady’s shoe (The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe), soft mats, tunnels, and of course, Mr. McGregor’s garden. Kennedy selected one after another of the hanging plastic watering cans, then poured the contents on the soil, previously saturated by gallons and gallons of water poured by countless little children under the mistaken belief that they were actually helping the plants, though in fact, I thought I could hear the faint screams coming from the leaves who were pleading for the children to go away. When one watering can was empty, Kennedy carefully hung it up and took another, repeating the process, oh, about twenty times.
Moving on, we found a yellow tunnel. Kennedy was equally adept at going down as well as climbing up.
“Kennedy, you can go up or down as many times as you like,” I said, knowing that we still had about two hours to fill. Up and down, then down and up the yellow tunnel for at least fifteen minutes. It’s now 10:15. “Let’s go to King Arthur’s Round Table,” I suggested, “and you can sit in King Arthur’s throne.”
Two minutes max. It’s 10:20.
We rode Cinderella’s horses, ate an ice cream “pop up”, went down more slides, saw the goats, rabbits, and Eeyore, the donkey, finally finishing up on the Jack and the Beanstalk slide. Upside down and headfirst, of course.
Home for lunch and peace and quiet. John was in court all morning and Kim had three more hours of work. Jadyne and I put Kennedy down for a nap. “I think I hear Kennedy crying,” Jadyne said, “Would you go see if you can quiet him down?” John and Kim’s bedroom was dark, but little puddles of light leaked out from beneath the closet door, where Kennedy sat on the floor, in tears. I picked him up, then lay down on the bed on my back with Kennedy on top. “Kennedy, “ I began, “I just want you to know that I had the most wonderful time with you today…you went down the slide so many times and so fast that I couldn’t keep up with you at all…and those plants are going to grow so big because you were so thoughtful to water them…and I just want you to know how much I love you…and what a special child you are…and that I’m so happy that you’re my grandson because you’re so special and so smart and I’m so happy to have this time to spend with you…and I went on and on, and as the sniveling stopped, the body grew quiet, and he continued to hug me. Jadyne snuck in, thinking we were asleep
And so it went. Soon we were playing with the marble raceway, riding a scooter, and I was reminded why Jadyne and I wanted children almost a half century ago, and why all the stuffy heads, the sniveling, and the tears were all welcome pieces of this grand puzzle that have been the best part of our lives over the last forty-seven years.
