I hope you are all doing well. I am doing an official check-in.
We here at the coop are all hanging in there, after a couple of blips in February. littleb had knee surgery for an old injury (he’s 15 and has an old injury-how does that happen?) and so has missed out on basketball season for this year. Now, he’s on the other side, mending well, and hoping to be in shape for the summer league. I’ve been back at the hotel for a little over a year now. It’s gotten much better and we’re busy, but we’ve got a ways to go before we are back to pre-Covid numbers.
I need your opinion on the following situation. It’s not super important-just wondering what other people would do. My grandaughter, Mac, is turning 9 next weekend. NINE! I can’t believe it. We’ve been texting back and forth about presents. A few days ago, out of the blue, she texted me that she wanted a bow and arrows. My first thought was Hellll no….Then, I remembered being nine. You may or may not have read the story of my childhood dream to be adopted by an Indian tribe, conveniently living in the woods in back of my parent’s home, or, if not really living there, perhaps there would be a portal I could slip through that would take me back in time where, for sure, there must have been Indian villages living in the woods in back of my parent’s home. I was obsessed. With the aid of books I borrowed from the library, I made a wig-wam, a canoe (sort of) and my own bow and arrows. It never occurred to me to ask for a modern-day bow and arrow because, in my mind, if they could chip an arrow head out of flint and tie it to a stick, so could I. And then I went squirrel hunting. Luckily, I was a very bad shot and my arrows were a little top heavy, but it kept me busy and out of the house until dinner time, and I considered all of this practice for my real imagined life, that hadn’t yet begun. I assumed my new parents would teach me all of this stuff once I found the portal.
So, really, Mac’s request struck a chord in my heart. How many years does she have left to imagine herself as a mighty warrior, protector and provider for her tribe, before peer pressure has her wanting a curling iron for her birthday. The kind that curls, straightens AND crimps. If, in her precious pre-teen heart, Mac is seeking adventure and a little danger, I want to be the kind of grandmother who is her strongest ally. I just don’t want to be the kind of grandmother who thoughtlessly gives dangerous gifts requiring lots of supervision and potential holes in things, both living and not.
What would you do? Did you have a childhood dream of adventure and feats of daring-do?