Maddie Joy and Other Joys

“Do you want me to take the rock from Maddie?” I asked my son, Jamie, as they got into the car to take their leave. The baby was buckled in her car seat and was sitting right behind her daddy. Who knew when the 2-year-old might decide to send a flying missile toward him? It had been Maddie’s passion to pick up rocks all day, from street side gravel to hefty chunks she tried to excavate on our jaunt down the hillside and around the pond. We were here at our granddaughter, Bethany’s home where she had proudly been showing us around their hilltop property.

“Yes, I’d feel better if she didn’t have it,” Jamie replied with a sigh. I pried the tomahawk-shaped rock from her fingers as gently as I could, smiling at her sweet baby face and speaking coaxingly to her, “Give Mimi the rock.” When she realized what I was up to, her face crumpled and transformed into one of disbelief and outrage. I quickly threw it away while she screamed louder.

“Give it back to her!” Jamie said resignedly. “I can’t stand it!” I retrieved it from the grass and put it back in her flailing palm. Instantly she calmed, with a only a bit of righteous indignation remaining and the redness around her eyes already beginning to fade and her face returning to pink and white. I felt bad for upsetting my temperamental red-haired granddaughter, but I would feel even worse if she hit my son! Hopefully they arrived back at their lodging safely.

We had all attended the wedding the night before for our second granddaughter, Sarah. Today we had spent sightseeing with other gathered family members, then after supper on the deck, we finished the evening around a campfire roasting marshmallows where, to my family’s amazement, I had my first taste of s’mores.

We’d had a glorious day, showing Jonesborough, Tennessee’s oldest town, to those of us who’d never seen it. After lunching in a quaint eatery, where our group of 14 overwhelmed the staff, and the food was terrific but the service was not, we whiled away a couple of hours lolling beside a spring-fed stream. It was just in back of our daughter, Julie’s, art studio, and there were Adirondack chairs, a picnic table and lots of cool grass and dappled shade just right for that handy throw and pillow pulled from the car. There we enjoyed ice-cream cones, and of course Maddie collected rocks.

I’m wondering if she'll have one squirreled away in her pocket at Easter services back in Houston!