Telephone line, give me some time

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Wednesday night I had my first real telephone conversation with Bubby. I say real because although I've talked to Bubby on the phone many times in the past, this was the first time he asked to talk to me on the phone, the first time he requested the phone from Mommy so he could talk to Gramma. And the first time we maintained a steady volley of remarks back and forth, just like real conversations work.

After getting the phone from Mommy, Bubby kicked off our conversation with a drum solo just for me, played on the kitchen garbage can, aka his "big drum." After applause and praise from Gramma, we discussed Mommy's birthday on Tuesday, the Christmas presents under the tree, his Elf on the Shelf (whom he named Jackson), and Santa Claus.

"Sometimes ... sometimes ... sometimes ... SOMEtimes," Bubby said, very carefully considering what came next, "sometimes ... sometimes Santa takes my presents away."

He shared the truth as he knew it, no tattling involved, just a tinge of remorse over the state of his current standing with Santa. Present removal is Megan's method for keeping an obstinate toddler from "losing his mind" throughout the day. When Bubby acts up, he's given the warning that if he doesn't start making good choices, presents will be removed from under the tree, to be replaced only when Bubby displays proper behavior. It seems to be working, for the most part.

I mentioned to Bubby that if he makes good choices, all the presents will stay under the tree. He responded by saying, "I can't close my eyes" and that he's "scared" of "something white up there" above his bed.

Of course, being a fan of Ghost Hunters and a believer in scary white things since I have scary things that happen occasionally in my own house, I worried that Bubby might be seeing ghosts. But according to Megan, at this point in the conversation, Bubby held the phone up for me to "see" the scary white thing in his bedroom. The scary white thing that is his smoke detector. It has a blinking light that scares him at night when he's been told to "close your eyes and go to sleep." Which he has trouble doing, no matter the number of nightlights and books that accompany him to bed.

Because Megan hadn't yet explained the inability to close his eyes in the face of scary white things, I attempted a diversion tactic by talking to Bubby about what Santa may be bringing him, which he says is "lots of cars and trucks." So with visions of cars and trucks dancing in his head, Bubby said, "I gotta play. Buh-bye, Gramma! Love you!" and the phone went back to Megan.

Throughout this first real telephone conversation, Megan told me, Bubby walked around the living room while chatting away, the phone to his ear as he stopped in front of the Christmas tree, headed over to gaze out the window, then off to his room to discuss the scary white thing. I can just imagine his big-boy attitude while on the phone, doing exactly as he did during a conversation with Mommy on the phone while we visited during Thanksgiving (of which the post photos are from).

It warms my heart to see that, like everything else with my grandson, the phone conversations are progressing, becoming more mature. It used to be that Megan would hold the phone to his ear for me to babble to baby Bubby, just so he'd know my voice. Then he started babbling back while Mommy held the phone for him. Soon he wanted to hold the phone himself each time, enjoying the notes of pressed buttons more than the sound of Gramma telling him how much she loves him -- which often resulted in disconnected calls. Now Bubby holds the phone himself and walks around, just like Mommy does while deep in conversation with Gramma.

I look forward to the next step in the progression of Bubby's telephone skills: when he picks up the phone and calls me himself -- on speed dial, of course -- to tell me about anything that scares him, excites him, or makes his day. And to babble the sweetest long-distance babbling this grandma's heart has ever heard, including somewhere along the line, an "I love you, Gramma!"

All prefaced, of course, with a drum solo performed just for Gramma on Bubby's "big drum."

(Curious about the post title? Here's the song it's from, an old fave of mine.)

Holiday question of the day:

If you could write a sequel to be produced for any holiday movie or program, which one would you choose and what would the plot highlights be?

Fair game

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Forty or so years ago, I went to the Minnesota State Fair. All I remember is that my younger sister and my dad were hurt by an errant cable that took them for an unintended and dangerous ride. To be honest, I remember the stories of the incident at the fair more than I remember the actual incident itself. Or the fair.

I've not been to a state fair since, except for when a has-been band or two (Jefferson Starship and .38 Special anyone?) headlined at the fairgrounds. I'm not sure if the horrible events of forty years ago scarred me forever, squelching my desire for fried foods at fantastically obscene prices and unregulated (or seemingly so to a paranoid such as myself) amusement rides at similarly obscene prices, or if there's some other deep-seated reason why I've never attended the state fair as an adult.

Becoming a grandma changes much, though, and one of the most recent changes has been my state fair attendance record. Yes, folks, my desert visit in October included a trip to the state fair.

I must admit, it was a far better occasion than my first fair visit, possibly because I steered clear of fried foods and flying cables. More probably, though, because I attended it with Bubby, Megan and Preston.

Being a grandma who likes to participate in my grandson's "firsts," the day was one for the history baby books as I got to ride with Bubby on his first-ever state fair ride. Here's a quick look at the fun we had at the fair:

In addition to typical fair attractions, there also was a life-size, animatronics dinosaur exhibit we enjoyed. Well, mostly enjoyed. Bubby was rather hesitant at first, but by the time we reached the end and he got to dig in the massive sandbox for fossils, I think he'd become a fan of dinosaurs. Pretty much. As long as they were nothing but bones. And didn't make noises. Or move.

It was perfect timing for introducing Bubby to the Hatch-n-Grow dinosaur egg, but, alas, the egg I carried in my Grandma Bag didn't survive the trip uncracked.

But that's okay. I have more eggs and will surely pack one in my Grandma Bag for another try during my visit at Thanksgiving. And after having the bejeezus scared out of him by the life-size T. Rex and its cousins, I'm pretty sure Bubby won't be frightened by an itsy-bitsy hatching baby dino.

Assuming, that is, that I can cushion the egg well enough in my suitcase this time to survive the wild and wacky airport baggage handlers, who are far scarier than hatching baby dino eggs. And errant amusement-ride cables, too.

Today's question:

What's most memorable about your past visits to the state fair?

The more things change ...

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In the two months between seeing Bubby in August and visiting him last week, the little dude has grown, matured, and mastered a few skills.

The biggest change is that Bubby now attends preschool. He eats out of a lunchbox with his classmates, participates in recess, lines up for class and washes his hands all by himself.

He's also learned to drink from a cup ... "with TWO hands, Gramma!"

He can pedal his trike ... sometimes even making it from one end of the patio to the other, to which he proudly exclaims, "I did it! I did it, Gramma!"

He no longer wears a diaper and wears Pull-Ups only at night; in the morning, they're still dry.

He used to adamantly avoid face dunks in the bathtub. Now he enjoys putting his face in the bath water and blowing bubbles.

He talks ... and talks ... and talks. Most of the time, it's in full sentences. Two of my favorites from last week: "I want to go to PawDad's house. I miss him." And, "Did you hear that, Gramma? The baby in my tummy went RAAAAR!" (The little guy understands the concept of babies in the tummy more than he does hunger pangs!)

He's no longer content to just walk, he runs ... "really fast":

He cried when dropping off Gramma at the airport -- not because he didn't want to get back into his carseat after hugging me goodbye, which is usually the case, but because he didn't want me to leave without him.

Those are just a smidgen of the many ways my beautiful Bubby has grown ever bigger between visits.

Even with all the growing and changing, though, several things remain the same.

Bubby still loves Elmo.

He still wriggles his fingers under the bathroom door when I'm in there, giggling and saying, "Gramma, come out!"

He still loves to read.

And to be held.

And hugged.

He still loves to dance, especially "the pumpkin dance" to show off his pumpkin stickers:

He still is a finicky eater. Now, though, he readily lets you know exactly what on his plate he doesn't like, which includes but isn't limited to anything brown, green, too hot, too cold, with "something in it" (such as spices or seeds), eggs, potatoes, turkey and "keeni" (meaning zucchini, of course).

He still loves tractors.

Roxy is still his best buddy.

And Mommy and Daddy are still his very favorite people in the whole entire world.

Today's question:

Speaking of things changing ... or staying the same ... did you do mail-in voting or did/will you vote in person today?

Thursdays with Grandma

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Tuesdays and Morries ain't got nothing on this team of Grandma and Bubby. Yesterday's highlight: Decorating and eating Halloween cookies (with a little lot of help from Mom Megan)!

Is there anything sweeter? (Or scarier ... especially once the sugar high hit and Bubby ran around shouting "Puddle! Puddle!" over and over for reasons yet unknown.)

Today's question:

What's your favorite Halloween candy and when did you last have it? (C'mon, be honest ... who among us has not already dipped into this year's trick-or-treat stash?)