I just got myself sucked into a long discussion on electricity . . . which was tricky because, the more I talked, the more I realized that I didn’t actually know what electricity was.
Jesse was warning me that a battery was about to die on our old corded landline, and I innocently mentioned that it didn’t need a battery because we could just plug it in. Next thing I know I am being forced to explain electricity and all I can think to say is a bunch of gibberish about our outlets – the ones he once shocked himself on – and that same power that shocked him coming out of those outlets to make things work just like a battery makes things work.
Only I can’t explain what exactly this “power” is. I have some little image in my mind of a miniature light bulb being powered by a potato with some wires sticking out of it, but that’s not getting me anywhere; . . . and the word “circuit” is kind of somewhere floating about in my mind. But heavens. Jesse quizzes me like no other.
. . . And I know full well that my answers aren’t always giving him a perfectly clear understanding because the other day he opened a banana that was a bit brown and mushy and said, “Mom! The potassium’s squeezing out . . . and (pause to grimace at the banana mush now on his hand) it’s smooshy”. I don’t think potassium is “smooshy”, and I know full well who gave him the potassium discussion. I’m a smart enough girl, but nobody told me, when I signed on for this mothering business, I’d have to explain why our electrical appliances don’t need batteries charged or exactly how a banana is good for us. Maybe there should have been a test to pass first.
And another thing . . . that has nothing to do with anything I’ve been saying. It’s simply this: Oh dear. Oh dear how this little Anders has me all twisted up inside at the thought of him. As I type this he is in my arms, drinking a bottle, slapping my hand with his (yes, I’m typing one handed), and kicking his chubby bare legs against the table. I just . . . ohhhh I love him.
Wait! Did I say I was done? I forgot about THIS! G-O-L-D-I-E. I know of no other little Goldies running around out there (well, no, actually I have heard several small dogs named Goldie . . . that doesn’t change the fact that I think it is an absolutely darling and lovely little girl name). Anyway, what with not many little girl Goldie’s about, I was quite surprised when I happened upon this little lunch box at Down East the other day. Her old lunch box is missing a strip of velcro, but, even if it wasn’t I would have had to buy this new lunch box. Yes, the fates must have brought little lunch box and I together on that Friday evening.