The Grand Brat, Semantics and Other Junk

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

I have received multiple complaints regarding the fact that I refer to my Grand-brat as The Grand-brat. Since I am always sensitive to public opinion…no wait-that’s not me…that’s somebody else.

As I was saying, since I am always sensitive to using words that mean what I intend to say I gave the matter serious consideration. There is no doubt that the “the” is accurate. He is the only one I have and until I have additional Grand-brats he is The.

Brat (according to Dan Webster) means an unruly child. Show me a child of 13 months that follows any rules but his or her own and I’ll consider a change. For that matter show me anyone related to me who follows the rules and I’ll consider a change.

Please keep in mind that I am not one of those ridiculous Grandfathers who constantly brag on their grandchildren. I will not show you a picture unless you ask. I will not tell you how incredible he is unless you ask or unless you start bragging on yours.

However, I will admit that the grand is probably inaccurate. This particular child and bearer of my genes is more than grand. He is exceptional. He is unique; he is quite possibly the culmination of millions of years of human development. I expect this to be true until he is no longer “the” and I have additional Grand-brats. At that point I will reevaluate.

In the interest of accuracy, I suppose I could refer to him as The Superior Brat but that might be confusing to my superior nieces and nephews who also deserve to be rated higher than simply my Grand-nieces and Grand-nephews.  Of course they refer to me as their superior uncle.

When I am addressing my Grand-brat I never call him “grand.” I wouldn’t want him to get conceited. I call him Monkey-feet, I call him Troll baby, and I call him Elf-ling, Elflet and Changeling. I call him Munchkin, Pigmy, Head-hunter and on some rare occasions I call him by his name.

In any case, I got to keep this spectacular child last weekend. He helped me clean the loading dock. Because he was helping, his Grand-ma’am (who is my Management) also helped. I have to say she is the personification of the doting Grandmother. We won’t go into that except to say I am glad my evaluations of him are objective and based purely on facts rather than emotion.

I like being with Management and I enjoy her company. I just wish she wasn’t so gleeful when I get around to hauling off a load of stuff. We filled a trailer with recyclable scrap and took it to one of the dumpsters. When she helps load I have to personally unload to make sure she didn’t toss something I want to keep.

Hauling off this load of stuff was less than satisfying. When we arrived at the dumpster I was told that if I attempted to take anything out I would be arrested. Now, I understand that some folks take truckloads of scrap metal out and sell it, which is wrong. I do not sell scrap. My goal is to recycle. If I take out ten pounds of useable stuff and deposit 500 pounds I think everyone wins. In addition to parts I need, I also save bicycles for my “Bikes for Brats” program. I save the bikes and repair them and give them away. Right now there are 41 kids who have bikes because I saved them and eight who are waiting for bikes.

I also save crutches, walkers and wheelchairs that I give to a group who repairs them and sends them to people who need them. Another of my specialties is stove, grill and appliance knobs and parts.

Management was really upset about the arrest threat. She thinks I am so stubborn I will accidentally get in trouble. Can you believe that?

After all of these years she should know better. I never accidentally get in trouble. If I need to save something from a dumpster, I will. Then I’ll call and report myself.