A Week of Firsts

Sunny California has given way to rain and wind this past week during our stay here, but anytime with the kids and grand kids is a delight. We've encountered some surprises, including many first time unexpected events.
     The most surprising of these occurred when my 42 year-old son developed an itching rash, which turned out to be chicken pox! Being of a certain, somewhat forgetful age myself, I can only guess what childhood illnesses he encountered, but surely he had chicken pox! Alas, a search of the baby book I so carefully kept up-to-date until he turned three (and then totally neglected) provided NO clue! My limited memory does recall exposing my children to every sick kid within miles. How could he escape chicken pox? The doctor came to my defense with an explanation that someone with a weakened immune system could develop a second go-round, but my son isn't buying it. :}
     The next surprise happened when I mentioned something about Stan being my son within hearing distance of our seven-year old grandson. "You're my daddy's mom?" he asked in amazement. Further questions followed, such as: "Who's his daddy?" When I replied, "Grandpa Bill," you could see the wheels turning as his eyes got wide. "You were married to Grandpa Bill?" I know. Seems hard for me to believe now, too.
     Then came the first of Zoey the cat disappearing. She's a mostly inside, sometimes outside wanderer cat, but she never let the call of the wild deter her from a soft, warm and dry bed before. Tears were shed by all the following morning when she still couldn't be found. Adults began to search sides of roads and map out a plan for posting flyer's and calling shelters, when wonder of wonders, a crying meow dropped from a tree--a large tree. There sat Zoey, drenched and clinging to a branch. Stan, chicken pox and all, retrieved a ladder and held it while Tracy (our wonderful daughter-in-law) climbed 15 feet up the side of the tree to rescue the sorry-looking feline. Whatever chased Zoey up the tree left her with a big bite on her tail, but otherwise she seemed to fare the elements without major problems. We sure wish she could talk! This morning she seemed to forget her harrowing experience as she tried to run out when the door was open. Perhaps she's looking for revenge, but someone needs to tell her she only has eight lives left!
     Another wonder occurred this week when the seven-year old grandson began receiving visits from the "Little Leprechaun," prior to St. Patrick's Day. This charming fellow left notes: "Ha Ha, He He, you can't catch me," and "I played in your room, but nobody caught me. PS I left you a cookie," and "Time is running out to catch me. PS. I'll be watching you," and "You didn't catch me, but good luck next year. PS. I brought Zoey back for you." The notes accompanied toys left out on Jay's bedroom floor, a trail of green glitter (where the Leprechaun walked) and treats. I'm not sure who had more fun with this "visit."
     Mike (still a kid at heart) and 14 year-old Zac drove to San Francisco for the St. Patrick's day celebration on March 12th. As they zoomed their way along the bay on bikes, Grandpa (aka the bad influence) let loose with a "farmer blow!!" and learned from Zac the new terminology for this disgusting trick: "Snot Rockets! Is it any wonder this is Zac's first (and probably last) bike ride alone with Grandpa!!!
     Next week it's crazy, weird Santa Cruz and the five-year-old twins. :}