Chuck-in-the-Box

So we’re sitting at a Country Buffet having an early dinner this past Sunday.  Munchkin has decided that we needed to eat there because her Adventure Club (summer daycare) class went on a field trip for lunch there just a few weeks ago (she was very insistent, though it was only 4 in the afternoon…).

 At some point or another, I depart the table on a quest for more chow and return to find Kiddo and Mom quietly giggling.  Fearing I was the butt of some joke, I had to ask what was so funny… 

 Kiddo catches her breath long enough to ask, “what if our last name was monkey butt?”  This is followed by a prolonged burst of laughter, after which I state that it would be great last name, but we couldn’t make it too obvious.

 Kiddo: “What do you mean?”

 Me: “Well, we’d have to spell it funky, so that it looked real…that way people would have to ask us how to pronounce it.  How funny would that be?”

 Kiddo: “Yeah, like ‘What’s your last name?’  Monkey-butt!”

 Uproarious laughter…

 Mom: “So how would you spell it?”

 Me: “How about M-U-N-Q-U-E-B-U-H-T?”

 Kiddo: “Yeah – ‘mon-kew-bewt?’  No – MonkeyButt!”

 Me:  “Then we could change Sammy’s middle name to Issa!”

 Mom: “Samantha Issa Munquebuht!!!!”

 Absolute hilarity…

 Munchkin: “Monkey butt?”

 The laughter’s too much…

 Mom: “Sabrina Wannsa Munquebuht…”

 And it goes on like this for another fifteen minutes, the laughter eventually bringing us to tears.

Eventually the incredibly silly moment passes and, as I mount my first assault on the dessert bar, I decide Munchkin has made a great decision for us that day…I know it’s an early dinner I’ll never forget.

It is now late Monday evening and I have finally gotten through all of the fun that Monday can bring, and I’m reflecting on the fantastic weekend that we had.  It began with a trip to Grandma D’s house on Saturday for a small farewell BBQ (if five children, fifteen grandchildren and six great grandchildren small...).  And who were we saying goodbye to?  Well…her house. 

After eighty-one years, and nearly forty in the same house, Grandma has made the decision to move into a senior community where she'll be deservedly pampered as she plans and executes her incredibly busy lifestyle.  Everybody is happy for her, and we all think she made the right decision... 

But... 

Her moving out means that there will be no more "Grandma's" Christmas (where Santa always came a week early)...or warm apple cider and orange frosted chocolate donuts on Halloween.  There are a lot of fond memories of Grandma's house - mowing the lawn for $5 a week during my youthful summers, a Push-Up Pop and a Pepsi whenever we felt like stopping by, or watching Bronco football with Grandpa on Sunday afternoon.  And though we lost Grandpa a few years ago, I'll never forget making my way through the house to find him in his recliner, usually watching baseball and puzzling over the point of a commercial he saw during the last break (and Grandma saying, “Well, it got your attention, didn’t it?).  In many ways, that little house on the corner defined who my Grandparents were, as much as that house was defined by their presence. 

I’m really going to miss that house…

I have to consider myself lucky, though.  You see, of the fifteen grandchildren, my brothers and sisters and I (we represent 1/3 of those grandchildren) grew up only seven blocks from Grandma’s house.  Having your Grandparents so close is a blessing.

I got to enjoy a great many Push-Ups and Bronco games…

Okay, so Kiddo's move into the realm of middle school was a pretty big deal.  Huge, in fact - and, I'm happy to report that the first week was a great success.  We'll see how long the jubilation lasts though...I can already see her getting flustered with the math homework...

However, tonight’s musings bring us back to that week during which I failed to post nary a thing…

It was Thursday of that week.  Our youngest, Sabrina – a.k.a. Munchkin – became a “grader” on that day.  Yes, our baby became a first grader, and, as she reminds us daily, a true-to-life big girl.  It was an important day, and of course Mom and I were there to provide the much needed support on her big day.

Only, that support wasn’t so much needed. 

In previous years, Mom had always been the one to go with Munchkin on "the first day."  There was always some drama, and it was usually the lunch hour before Mom was able to quietly slip away.  Well, anticipating a heightened amount of anxiety (and being tired of missing out on the good stuff because of the big bad adult world), I tagged along to see my little girl off to the "grader" level of school.

As it turns out, Mom and I needed most of the support.  Munchkin was settled in after ten minutes - and when we said our good-byes, she hardly acknowledged that we were about to leave her alone with a new teacher.  She gave us each a kiss on the cheek and said “Bye Mommy and Daddy.  I love you…see you later okay!”

And then we made our way through the maze of miniature chairs and desks, down the hallway and through the front doors of the school:

Mom: “Well…”

Me: “Well…”

At this point, neither of us knew quite what to think…our baby, our curly haired little angel just started first grade without a hitch…or a look back.  It wasn't a moment for tears...but it was one of those moments.  You know the kind - where you're proud, sad, happy and reminiscent at the same time.  Lots of emotion...

With a hug and a kiss, we each head off in our own direction…

…and arrive at our offices much earlier than anticipated.