FACES OF INNOCENTS

Great Grandmother Diane with
Lilian

In my lexicon, If one picture is worth a thousand words, pictures of children are worth tens of thousands of words. At a birthday party for my six-year-old great-grandson Alex this past weekend, we were able to record the faces of my three great-grandchildren and took endless shots of them, not just to commemorate the occasion but to make those little faces available to me when I return to Sewanee, Tennessee next month.

Alex the party boy

On days when fog hangs over the day and gray feelings reflect the weather, I bring up photographs of Alex, Kate, and Lillian (the twins) and am uplifted. After making several road trips this past week, today I almost succumbed to gray, weary feelings, but I brought up the photos on my cell phone and was grateful that when I looked at those innocent faces I felt hopeful. I was also grateful for the devotion of the children's grandmothers because the Romero offspring are fortunate to have grandmothers who travel from southeastern and southwestern Louisiana to provide loving, extended family almost every other week, an experience my daughters hardly ever enjoyed.

I said that pictures of children are worth tens of thousands of words, so here are the photos that

Daddy Martin with Kate

should evoke a smile or two from readers...or are they just products of inordinate great-grandmotherly pride?  A footnote to the photos: The twins are on the cusp of becoming one-year-old. Lillian walks and Kate talks, and if you stand outside the door of their nursery, you can hear them talking to one another in twin language. Their favorite subject: When are we going to eat? I thought I interpreted a question Lillian asked Kate this weekend: Who's that old lady with white hair that keeps reciting nursery rhymes to us? 

 

MARDI GRAS WITH ALEX…



Alex packing for trip

 It’s a gray Mardi Gras day in Louisiana, and if revelers in New Orleans don’t get wet, they’ll be lucky because the sky is hanging so low that when the rain breaks through, it’s going to be a frog strangler and a root soaker.

My Mardi Gras celebration didn’t include a parade and catching beads – I "passed a good time," as they say in Cajun country, with my two-year old great grandson, Alex, who has to be the brightest kid on the block. As you’ll notice, above, Alex is packing. When told by Martin, his father, (my grandson) that he was going to Nana’s house (my daughter Stephanie aka “Neeny”), Alex, without any provocation, ran into his room, got out his overnight bag, and started packing three important items – Woody and Bud LightYear of Toy Story fame, and his sleeping partner, a lamb security blanket that he calls “Lovey.” Alex already knows where his bread is buttered, where he’ll receive sweet indulgence, major tolerance, unconditional love, and undying attention –I’m speaking of Nana’s house because, sadly, mine isn’t “kid proof.”

When Alex comes to my house, he already knows where the good stuff is; i.e., the electric train that we ran only once for him at Christmas. Yesterday, he ran into the hall, located the closet where the train is kept, and beckoned for me to follow him. “Train, please, Momow (aka Great Grandmere).” He fluttered those long eyelashes imploringly at me, but I had to tell him “no” because I want the train to survive until he understands that you don’t snatch cars from the train while it's whizzing around the track.

Alex and train



A few days ago, I read that children his age have a basic vocabulary of 25 words, and if the child can say 50 words and string a few of them together, he’s going to be a good communicator. His dad says he already speaks over 100 words, knows his colors, recognizes some of the alphabet, and, in general, shows “promise.”

I have high hopes for Alex – hopes that someone in the family besides me will be a writer. I like to write, but the time is nearing for me to retire my pen and welcome a new scribbler. I tried reading Mother Goose to Alex, today but he is a boy. He was more interested in my wooden train (the only toy I have left in the house) and succeeded in removing a part from a freight car; however, he attempted to attach the roof to the engine that another grandchild had pulled off, each time saying dramatically, “Oh no!” and batting those eyelashes again. Maybe he’s going to be an actor So far, his skill with words is the feature that overwhelms us.

Overwhelms indeed! I remember when a librarian friend of mine told me, “Wait until you have grandchildren (and I’m past that). Fred and I used to watch television in the living room in the evenings. But since we’ve acquired grandchildren, when they come to visit, they get on the floor in the middle of the living room and all we do is sit and watch them.” She didn’t tell me how fascinating great-grandchildren would be.

Yes, children are mesmerizing, particularly when they learn to speak, which Alex has been working on for the past year. Here’s a poem from my chapbook, Post Cards From Diddy Wah Diddy that I wrote to commemorate those first sounds from Alex we thought were formed words:

ALEX TRIES TO TALK AT YEAR ONE

because we are eager for conversation,

quick to translate his babble.

We hear “want it” bubbling on his tongue

when a fragment of ice is thrust at him,

the inchoate language of what we think he says,

a sign he has moved from solitude

to expressing desire for something,

the gymnastic voice of an infant opera singer

lifted, applauded,

the secrets in his mind expressed at last.

Mardi Gras is over, and I can’t boast about catching strands of purple, gold, and silver beads , but thanks to my infant Mardi Gras king, I do have a cow figurine with a broken leg to show for the celebration – “Oh no!” 

P.S. I'm only kidding -- his father saved the cow from injury several times during the visit.

Photos by Daddy Martin