Hey, I'm An Elephant

Bobo and Cat T. (yes, these are really their names) visited me this morning while their dog Star went to the vet. Cat brought me a bottle filled with pink water and glitter. "Shake it!" she cried, and so I did. "How nice!" I told her, and set it on my windowsill.

Then I fixed them some poodles and cheese. "I just have to rinse the poodles," I told Cat.

"What?" she said, watching me rinse the contents of the colander. "You're joking, Aunt Kim."

"No, I eat poodles and cheese and peas twice a week. They're good for you." She gave me a concentrated stare, one corner of her mouth twitching but the other corner rutted in a frown.

"You're kidding, Aunt Kim," she repeated. "Right?"

"Right. I've never eaten a poodle," I assured her, and she went off to play while I finished fixing lunch.

The T. kids always, always eat macaroni and cheese with peas and ketchup at my house for lunch. We are creatures of habit, and I'd hate to disappoint. The loveliest things, I think, when you're a child, are the routine things, the things you know to expect and anticipate: love from your parents, a regular bath and bedtime, macaroni and cheese.

"On Good Friday, I get to serve," said Bobo, looking up from a bloodied pile of macaroni and cheese (the T. kids never skimp on the ketchup and just for them I keep an ungodly carton of Heinz from Sam's Club in my fridge door). Bobo, especially, is a class A ketchup consumer.

"That's great, Bobo."

He paused before helping himself to more poodles from the pot: "I'm an altar boy."

"Hey, Kim, look!" shouted Cat, who is sitting on my left. "I'm an elephant!"

For the remainder of lunch, Bobo played a game with empty yogurt cups and a rubber frog with Elspeth, and then we watched an black ant, who took up residence in our kitchen yesterday morning, crawl along the kitchen table. He finally dropped to the table and scooted under a piece of macaroni.

"Where's Ted?" the T. kids asked at intervals. I had told them the ant's name was Ted, and we should let Ted live at peace in the house. Watching Ted segued us into swapping riotous ant stories: my brother sitting in an ant hill, their baby father sitting in an ant hill in nothing but his diaper.

Right now Merry is singing Elephant a blessing "May God bless you and keep you. . ." she sings, and I dare say she is signing a cross on his pink forehead. After Elephant is tucked in and instructed not to move ("Do what I please," she tells him, "Not what you please!") Merry calls Cocoa on the telephone. She does Cocoa's voice as well. . .seems as if he's been in a meeting and has a broken leg. "Oh, of course, Cocoa! We would be delighted to pick you up!" she says. "Oh, that's terrible! They had a razor? They cut themselves with a razor? The children? Cocoa, that's TERRIBLE!"

(Cocoa now:) "Well, I have a late night. Pick me up at 30 o'clock."

Children. Honestly, they are the chlorophyll in my leaves. Non sequiturs abound. You can smell their imaginations. They are just so much FUN.