Knowing the answer isn't no

I often will see my dad when I look in the mirror or hear his words when I open my mouth to say something. Lately my mom has been showing her presence as well – not in a ghostly way, but rather in a manner of the things she did or said.

For instance, she recognized that kids like to play with garbage. I don’t mean crawling around inside a dumpster or sliding around on old banana peels. I’m talking about using a discarded shoebox to put treasures in (and then take them out - repeatedly), a large cardboard tube for cars to travel through (tunnel) or on top of (bridge). Styrofoam packing becomes a boat in the bathtub. Even my wife has adopted some of my mother’s ways, which means I’m not the only one saving stuff for the grandsons.

My mother also practiced a style of negotiation that left no room for disagreement. If she wanted you to set the table, she would simply say,

“I’ll let you set the table.” There was no question – therefore there could be no declination, nor any disagreement. She created a scenario in which an action needed to take place, and then she granted someone the privilege to carry out the action. She was quite crafty, my mom.

Frequently, I was given permission (without seeking it) to carry in the groceries, take out the garbage, shovel the driveway and mow the lawn. In all my years at home, I never developed an acceptable reply or retort to my mother’s declarations. I may, however, get a chance with my two-year old grandson.

Micah has inherited his great-grandmother’s negotiation skills and will often use them to his advantage. Recently, he and I were in the same room together. Micah seemed content playing on the floor by himself pushing his cars around; I was happily working on a crossword puzzle, while watching and listening to him play. For five minutes.

Instead of asking if I wanted to play, which would have allowed me to say, “Yes, in a few minutes” or “No, not right now,” he stated in melodic tones with syllables added to select words for affect, “You could play with me on the floor Pa. You could.” He had taken away any opportunity for disagreement. Seeing or hearing no immediate response he repeated himself with added clarity. “You could play cars with me right now Pa. You could.” He was right; I could – so I told him so.

Micah had laid out a scenario in which both he and I could envision what he had described. I was left with no choice but to agree with him and to play with him – on the floor.

Several minutes later Jennifer, Micah’s mother and my daughter, entered the room and saw that I was on the floor instead of at the table working on my crossword puzzle.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m sure you would rather be working on your crossword instead of being on the floor,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I responded. “How much longer will he be two years old?”

We both knew the answer:  Not long enough for me to waste time doing crosswords when I could be on the floor playing with him. I could see Mom smiling.