green grass, blue water and apple pie

Littlest One knows no floods will reach her house.

We are babysitting. We love any chance to be with our three grands: 2,4 and 7. Their mom put a pie-shaped chicken pot pie in the oven and I set the table for a family meal even though an island meal would be so much easier.

The pie is out of the oven and in the center of the table. The two younger lean in, eager for their meal, but terribly disappointed when they realize they are not having apple pie for supper.

After the blessing, I suggest a dinner conversation. I start exclaiming about how green the grass is. Grandpa, aka the Gardener, talks about how all the rain we've had helps the grass. Which leads to the subject of the floods not far from us (the kids had just helped their mom that day with some relief aid.) "Where do the floods go and how to they move?" Four-year-old grandson is thinking deeply and on to all kinds of questions. When the Gardener starts talking about evaporation and other big words, I suggest we find easier ones. Meanwhile the talk seems to ring a bell in our seven-year-old B's mind. "May I share the science experiment we did today? All I need is a bowl, a cup, and a piece of paper." Of course!

I don't pay any attention as she preps the experiment. I'm busy finding something else at least a bit nourishing for the chicken pot pie protesters to eat. Suddenly I realize B's coming towards the table carrying an overflowing bowl of dark blue water. Overflowing on to the hardwood floors. I'm talking dark blue--maybe 10 drops of food coloring or more.

I clean up the floors, put the whole deal on a tray and carry it to the table for her. The experiment appears to be proceeding with a flourish, as she explains how water passes through various things.

I come back to the table with some toast for the little ones when I realize the upside down glass on a piece of paper is failing as an experiment. There is blue water everywhere again, this time on the table. I run for paper towels and as I mop it up again, with a sick feeling, I realize it has reached the seam in the table where extra leaves go.

Drip, splat, drip onto the off-white rug under the table … a dark blue blotch forms, perfectly centered in the middle. But thankfully it's so centered it's not visible unless you happen to be on the floor looking under the table.

Our grands' parents were easy when they got home, and rather liked the story that went with blotch. I'm sure DIL will try to get the stain out. Meanwhile, in a small way, it reminds me of a house my sister, at age four, etched with a pin onto our mom's mahogany dining room table. It's still there to this day, now in my sister's house, and has a story to go with it.