There’s something about Friday that conjures up a pause from the routine and opens a door to something new and exciting. In my earlier years, it was a sleepover at a friend’s house or a Friday night high school basketball game. Later, it became meeting up with friends or attending a party with co-workers. Now, it means picking up my grandson from kindergarten.
I pulled up to his school in anticipation. I parked the car and began walking from the parking lot to the playground where I spotted him in his brown Carhartt jacket. He was wearing blue sweat pants and a green “Elf” t-shirt underneath—his choice for “mismatch day”. His mask with the school insignia floated just below his nose.
There were two adults on duty and I told one that I was there to pick up Rockland. She called to him and when he saw me he stopped playing with his friend, ran over at full speed, and wrapped his arms tightly around my legs. Nonna! I hugged him and told him how happy I was to see him. I asked him who his friends were and he began to name each child, adding important details I should know. As he spoke, the other adult came over to greet me; Rockland’s words began to get swallowed up in his mask and the sounds of the children and I wanted to kneel right next to him so as not to miss a single one.
I showed my identification and waited outside the school door while Rockland and the adult went inside to gather his belongings. Soon he reappeared and handed me a baggie with little Valentine’s hearts inside. You can peel off the back and stick them onto a card if you like, Nonna. He informed me that I could carry his water bottle and lunch bag, as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and we headed to the car.
My 14-month-old lab, Ivy, was waiting for us on the front seat. As I opened the back door to let Rockland in, she hopped over the console and right out the back door, overcome with excitement at seeing her favorite five-year-old. I caught her by the collar as Rockland climbed up and buckled himself in. I got Ivy settled and then began the 25-minute ride back to my house.
He started right in on the red Gala apple I had waiting for him, chewing it down to the pits. Look at this, Nonna! There was a bag of popcorn, too, but he informs me that he prefers his popcorn hot. He entertains me with his conversation, pointing out things I would have driven by with little notice. We don’t stay on any one topic for long. Somehow we landed on school rules and I was interested to hear some of them: no wrestling to the ground; flush the toilet and wash your hands; and no squishing your friends when you sit down.
We pass the street that leads to President Joe Biden’s house and I point it out to him. Can we see his house? I tell him we are not allowed to go there. Oh, you can only go that way if you live in that neighborhood? Correct.
We continue on, keeping up with the flow of Friday afternoon traffic. Finally we reach my street and I back into the driveway. When the car stops, he swings the door open, dashes out, and runs toward the side door. I wrangle Ivy, backpack, water bottle, lunch bag, apple core, napkin, and nearly-full bag of popcorn. When I enter the house, I hear Rockland asking Papa if he wants to play soccer in the basement. Papa tells him he’s still working, but maybe in a little while.
His shoes and socks are already off and flung to the ground in the living room. He proceeds to the guest room/office, the one he calls his room, the one that he graciously shares with me. I help him open the closet that holds his toys and stuffed animals. I am awed by his ability to move so quickly from one thing to the next.
He plays, he eats, he grabs a book, he lifts weights, he throws the suction-cup ball against the wall to see if it sticks. He shows me how to use the voice command on my remote. Nonna, you press this button and say, ‘Santiago of the Seas’. I suggest we read and he runs to the shelf to pick his favorite book, No, David! We take turns being teacher. I go first. He gathered six or seven stuffed animals to the chair to join him for the story. They cover him and I have to remind the animals that we don’t squish our friends. I read two pages before Rockland raises his hand, telling me that the stuffed hot dog has to go to the bathroom. I ask if it’s an emergency. It’s an absolute emergency!
Papa comes up from downstairs and we tag-team so I can get dinner started. Rockland requests oatmeal. Oatmeal it is, then. He used to help me cook. Now he tells me I can do it and goes off to play with Papa. He eats his oatmeal with butter, cream, and maple syrup. He uses the knife to cut a big hunk of butter and watches as it melts in the warm oatmeal. He pours half & half from the little doggie creamer and I help him with the quart-sized jar of organic maple syrup. He adds an ice cube so it won’t be too hot, and then gives one to Ivy. He also grazes on two bananas, some raisins, and a bowl of blue chips.
Hey, Nonna, let’s watch the Phillie Phanatic. I pull up his favorite YouTube video, the one in which Tommy Lasorda and the Phanatic get into a fight before the game. We laugh heartily. We watch some more Phillies highlights. Hey, Nonna, why are there real people at the game?
He discovers a manual kitchen scale that belonged to my mother-in-law; I use it more as a decorative piece than as a measure of weight. He pushes down on it, noticing how the dial moves with his pressure. I bring it to the dining room table where he begins to pick up a banana, the dog creamer, and game pieces and adds them to the container that sets on top of the scale. I fetch a bag of pennies that I used for math tutoring when I still met with my students in person. He began adding those, as well. He estimated which items would equal a pound, and then proudly told us to look when he achieved his goal.
My daughter texted that she and her husband would arrive in 20 minutes to get Rockland. (It makes for a more peaceful transition when he knows it’s almost time to go.) When they came in, he quickly hid himself under a blanket on the couch, and we said that he already left. Angela pretended to sit on the blanket. I’m right here!
We said our goodbyes and when he was safely buckled into his booster seat, I realized he had left without the small bag of blue chips I packed for his ride home. I quickly retrieved them and handed them to my son-in-law before they drove away. He rolled down Rockland’s window so he could talk to me.
Nonna, do you think you could send me a post? And, can you put a picture of yourself in it in case we don’t see each other for a while?
I can’t think of a better way to spend a Friday afternoon and evening than with him. Oh, this little boy.