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We’re in the home stretch of Baby Number Four joining The Big Three Superheroes. I’m not sure what I had envisioned as I planned my vacation around the birth of Nameless. I believe it was more along the lines of showing up after he was born and bonding with a snugly swaddled bundle of pure bliss.
Instead, I got a frantic text from the male creator of the Superheroes that I needed to come get Reckless, Fearless and Dauntless NOW. Thinking it was D-Day, I jumped into stealth mode. The Aunt and Uncle were dispatched to pluck the three out of potential homebirth peril while I darted and dashed to rearrange the house, make beds, wash clothes and boil water. (I now know that boiling water prior to child birth is to make Jello for the older kids.)
However, no. We cannot announce the arrival of Nameless; nor can we announce the unpredictable combination of names he will forever be called because he has decided he will not make an appearance even at D-minus four days. We’ve yet to anticipate any of our grandbrats’ names. The last one was named after his maternal great grandmother, a wizard and a science fiction author. We figure they will throw some letters down on the Scrabble board this time and just make a name then flip the board and come up with the middle name. It’s as sound a method as any they’ve chosen. Whoever Nameless will be, he has some mighty superhero shoes to fill.
The Three can detect dust particles moving in the universe when I move, but cannot hear me call their names. They can transform a healthy meal of veggies, fruit and protein into chicken nuggets and fries with a side of cookies in seconds. The Three can destroy a spotlessly clean room in 10 seconds or less, complete with filling their cap pistols with laundry detergent and powdering the atmosphere; and, this is exactly why they were sent to me.
We can handle the superheroes. Reckless, Fearless and Dauntless have been taught by the best Faux Pa there is. In the world of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, Faux Pa speaks little boy and I am left cleaning in their wake. This works for us because I can find things if I clean up rather than trying to find toys, tools, garden rakes, shovels, socks, shoes and random clothing helter-skelter over 60 acres. What I was not prepared for was the list of instructions that came via text, Messenger, Facebook and Instagram on what their activities should entail. Being as I’ve not received as complex instructions on previous visits, I’m blaming her current condition for the micro-managing that has never worked well in her world or ours.
The creators of the Big Three Superheroes determined they should be taught music lessons. They decided against sending the musical instruments themselves, but thought I would be able to discuss terminology and theory. The female creator would send links to acceptable internet sites that would encourage their musical vocabulary. If we ran out of things to do, we could use the Spanish videos and begin teaching elementary Spanish to the boys. The maternal unit would also send acceptable internet links for age appropriate sites. Their regular school work complete with mini-essay assignments could be found in their backpacks. Oh, and Dauntless is ready to be potty trained. The girl brat was sending training pants because we didn’t want to miss the opportunity.
Seriously. Dauntless cannot even see over the rim yet. I decided that unless Dauntless came to me and said, “Grand Ma’am, I need assistance in the restroom,” I was going to ignore the whole potty training thing. Well, wouldn’t you know it? Dauntless has a command of the English language many adults should envy. A four-inch Merriam Webster dictionary improved his aim tremendously.
Day 1: I feel like Noah’s wife. It’s raining by the buckets. We made it through breakfast which deteriorated into chocolate milk and Poptarts. They completed their school assignments in too short an order. I suggest another 50 worksheets, but knew I was pushing it. Yo no hablan español and I’ve forgotten any music I was ever taught. I may can teach them to sing a dozen or so songs from the Methodist hymnal my grandmother taught me. They will go home to play Minecraft and sing Onward Christian Soldiers. It’s 8:30 a.m.
I looked at them and they looked at me; and I said the three words that changed our day: “Let’s go outside!”