I haven’t taken you on a visit to Nannyland recently.
The three little ones are nearly one, just turned two, and looking in the face of three. A handful to say the least.
Nanny turns 20. Since Nanny is my daughter, let me just mention that her growing up process has no bearing on my age. I believe she gets two birthdays to my one, starting a few years ago.
I spent a couple of days in Nannyland just last week. Medical world is vastly different, so I was in for some culture shock.
The toothless, bald tribal leader who chanted and banged on toys has matured into a, how do I say this without offending, a tree frog. He loves physical contact which makes the activities of daily living almost impossible. Apparently his little fingers are like sticky pads or Velcro, and he is able to scale a full-size adult in seconds, or at least annoy the adult to the point that they pick him up. Nanny says he jumps. One day she turned around to pay attention to one of the girls and he lunged for her and clung to her back, while still strapped into the high chair.
I must have accidentally worn baby repellent so he spent most of his time trying to scramble out of my arms and onto Nanny.
We strolled to the park. The girls obey Nanny and point out wildlife and airplanes. On a walk a few days before I visited, Two-Year-Old screamed, “Lion!” Not a far fetched thing in our metro area -- Mountain Lions have been spotted, so Nanny whirled around and readied to do battle with the….. squirrel.
The last day I visited we spent several minutes in the yard. A balmy September breeze stirred baby-fine hair. Giggles rang, and the girls frolicked and sang and slid. Two-Year-Old found a leaf and began chewing. Nanny removed the leaf. A small branch showed up in Two-Year-Old’s fist, and it headed toward the open mouth. Nanny snatched it, and mentioned something about children not eating bunny food.
Two-Year-Old curled up with the dog, leaned over and began to graze.
Nannyland, a nice place to visit.
