Chatterbox
That deliciously vivacious voice keeps me enthralled and listening intently to ensure I miss as little as possible of the running commentary. Subconsciously she often trails off into a kind of Valleyspeak; not Ottawa Valley, but California-type with its mellifluous intonations and connotations as well as superfluity of "likes". I've been through the ubiquitous "likes" with her time and again, teasing her about the sloppiness of its fall-back use, but she fails to see the humour completely and I fear constraining her spontaneity, so I suppress my dislike of this special torture of decent language as much as I can.
I'm content to let her run on, and run on she does, supplemented and encouraged by the occasional word from her rapt listener. I learn that Mrs. MacDonald brought two kittens to school that day. Mrs. MacDonald, her perceptively kind teacher, despite being such a young woman herself, I learned already has seven cats in her household and a like number of bunnies. These two kittens were born of a barn cat. There were five kittens in all, the child tells me excitedly, but the mother cat took three of them away, and left two. And that will make how many Mrs. MacDonald now has? I ask her. Ten! she shouts triumphantly.
And guess what, Bubbie! she gushes. I saw two snakes today, a little one and a big gardener snake. Listen carefully, I say to her, G-A-R-T-E-R. Now, what does that spell? Um, garter? Yes, that's right, Garter snakes. Well anyway, Bubbie, Ewwuu! What do you mean, ewwuu! Snakes are marvellous creatures, they're interesting, often colourful, and they're part of our environment. Ugh! Bubbie, and that's all there is to it! Well, of course.
Got any homework! I ask. From the bounce in her voice I should know better than to ask, for when she does bring homework from school, she feels miserably burdened with the weight of the responsibility to fulfil this unwritten contract with the school and Mrs. MacDonald. She becomes glum and uncommunicative, and under the stern direction of her mother finally buckles down to complete the assignment of the day.
But she has more exciting information to impart, and tries to have me guess what it is, and of course, I take a few unsuccessful stabs until she impatiently cuts in with the important news that Stephanie, her very best, very favourite, very close friend whom she left behind at her old school wrote to her. She says, Bubbe, that she thinks of me all the time, she really misses me. Can I read the letter to you? Well, of course.
And she does. I learn that nothing much of interest is happening around the old school. But, Stephanie informs, she earned an coveted "A" on her last French test. Which makes Angie groan, whether with envy or spite, I can't tell, since Angie simply detested learning French at her old school. Stephanie goes on to say that she can hardly wait until school is out for the summer holidays because she wants to come and visit with Angie at her new house, and stay over with her, and they'll have so much fun!
Have you written back to her yet? I ask. Not yet, Bubbie, but I soon will. Have you responded to my letter yet? I ask her, knowing full well she hasn't yet. When I write to her it takes her several weeks often before she can galvanize sufficient strength of purpose to respond. But when it is my turn to respond to her letter to me she criticizes the length of time it takes before she receives my letter, despite that I turn her letter around in a response within a day or two. Mind, I can understand that: at her age it is more rewarding to receive than to give. And I embellish my letters to her with cartoons, kiddy jokes and the occasional enclosure of something of value to a child.
No, she says, not yet, Bubbie. I haven't had the chance, she tells me; her usual excuse. I had too much homework, but I will write back soon, honestly Bubbie. I'm sure I'll see her a few more Saturdays on our usual visit with her and her mother, before I receive a written response to my last letter, but no matter.
I plan to bake some butter tarts for our next visit; she does love butter tarts.
posted by Pieface @ Friday, May 05, 2006
<< Home