The S3
The IS3 has ended. It appeared it was going to last forever, but, at least, for my sake, it didn’t. I’m Baba, the exponentially aging grandfather of the Seattle 3 (S3). Their mom (Mom), our oldest daughter, always joins the IS3 while the father (Dad), always has to work and rarely can join an IS3. Hmmm………
Mom assured me that the end would come sometime on or after November 3rd, whenever Sun and Moon could agree to permanently cast a shadow on America or not. If they agree it is to be permanent, the S3 stay. Mom believes permanent darkness would be more survivable in Boise than Seattle. Fortunately, for me, she changed her mind. She changed her mind because I am going under the knife on Monday for knee surgery and a Hell on Earth House was specifically forbidden by my surgeon. I also told her my surgeon had insisted I be quarantined a month prior to and following surgery. It was beginning to look like Mom was going to ignore both.
Mom
Mom does have moments of compassion because she has survived a daily IS3 at her home besides being physically and mentally tougher than shit. Ama hasn’t and isn’t. Mom knows what it’s like to feel the need to contact the ER, but daily. And when it comes to an IS3, Ama could tolerate a Hell on Earth House forever. She is the quintessential Eveready Grandma on Steroid. I am married to Ama.
For those of you who didn’t read the earlier story, Hot Wheels, when I introduced you to the Seattle 3, I will refresh your memory. They live in Seattle and travel to Boise frequently to visit Ama and me. The oldest boy, G-Man, is 8 and the younger two, the twins, JJ and Ben, are 6. They are slightly abnormal little boys which means they are Synergistic Eveready Little Boys on Steroids. I’m almost 78 going on 150, Ama is 39 going on 25.
In past visits I never had to remind myself that the 1978 movie, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” was child’s play compared to an IS3. As always, we had many fantastic times like playing Uno and Trash, card games which kids find simple and fun while seniors find them complicated and stressful. But I drank Mr. T (tequila) during the games which made them extremely fun but much more difficult. Who cares?
For additional fun, the S3 organized a combo birthday and Halloween party for their aunt, daughter No. 2, who lives across the street. It lasted an entire day and it was a real blast because I had another bottle of Mr. T hidden under the sofa. It involved bobbing for apples, biting swinging donuts, dressing up their aunt and other mirthful activities. The party was held prematurely by several weeks because the S3 had to leave before the actual events were to occur. Who cares?
The S3 are funny, bright and loving. Most of the time they are a joy to be with unless they are riding their scooters up and down the walls and ceiling or pulling Sprout’s tail until he bites me. I forgot to mention that an IS3 always includes a small, perpetually moving, continuous yapping, and too-quick-to-kick-large rat sized mammal, Mr. Sprout.
Sprout
During their visits, especially during Covid-19, there are always issues. Frequently negative issues. Allow me to enumerate a few.
Inadequate space. Our home is 1600 sq. ft. and drops to 400 sq. ft. during an IS3. We have 2 bedrooms, actually 3, but one is my Manly Man Cave which has 2 locks on a door constructed of a bullet proof, bank vault style door designed to withstand a nuclear blast.
Our Home
Inadequate bedding. Sprout and Ama share our queen-sized bed. If I’m lucky, I can salvage a few inches before dropping off into an abyss. An abyss is not synonymous with sleep. Ama and I have a Dream Cloud Premier 15 mattress, which is 4 ft. thick. Image, dear readers, every kid’s nightmare: falling off a bunkbed. Sprout and Ama love each other deeply, and her love for me can vary. Keep in mind that I have upcoming surgery and I’m 77 and that a good sleep is vital for maintaining the immune system, thus reducing chances of dying, especially during an epidemic. I also have a pacemaker and CPAP. “Your issues are not relevant,” sez Ama. “You know bloody full well that Sprout visits are infrequent.” I ask myself during an IS3 whether an oxygen tank would improve my ranking and visibility.
The S2 occupy the other queen bed in the guest room. Mom usually sleeps on a pad crammed against the wall in the same room. My Manly Man Cave, the 3rd bedroom is off-limits and always locked, whether I’m in or out. I tell the S3 that I have a pet, a perpetually hungry saber-toothed alligator at my side always, leashed on a thread. They know I’m lying because they know their alligator facts as they’ve watched thousands of nature documentaries on PBS Kids.
Inadequate down time. During an epidemic, children’s activities, like schooling, playing, eating, sleeping, screwing around, screaming, dropping a deuce (poo), and pulling dogs’ ears are confined to small spaces, like our home. During this IS3, our home begged to join me on my secretly planned Bahama vacation. Prior to my escape ruminations, I attempted to break into Fred Meyers pharmacy at midnight. I’d forgotten that Freddy is open 24/7. I told the police that my surgeon okayed opioid use prior to my surgery once he learned of my situation.
Inadequate liquor supply. During Covid-19, the shelves of the liquor store are empty. A few bottles of Bloody Mary mix were still available and so were the miniatures, so I cleared out their supply of 3 shooters. Fortunately, I had two bottles of tequila (Mr. T) well hidden.
Inadequate DoggyPoo bags. During Covid-19, the shelves of Freddy’s DoggyPoo bags are empty. I guess it’s because pets, especially dogs, during house confinement, will talk to you and walk with you and love you for better or for worse, when family members won’t. Dogs are not confined to small homes, but they are to small back yards. Thus, things get slippery when playing catch with small boys. If one does venture out on a walk with the dog, one does it at night. Sprout has a friend, Ryder (owned by neighbor, our youngest daughter) who stays with us during the day. Ryder is a big black lab who deposits big black piles of poo.
Sprout & Ryder Enjoying Their New Kong Frisbee
The IS3 this time was decidedly not totally life-threatening for geriatrics, but at times, I was dubious. I almost cried when they drove away to return home. The house always seems empty after an IS3. It is. But Ryder is still with us and the park is close, plus he has a new frisbee which glows in the dar