He ran towards the couch. It was just sitting there, that package of temptation. Sitting there on the couch for all to see. . .and touch. . .and taste.

He wasn't very good on his legs just yet. He hadn't been using them very long. He just knew he wanted what was in that package.

When he reached the couch he threw his hands down on the package and flailed them around a bit to get his hands in. Those hands sometimes didn't quite do what he wanted either, but he knew if he moved them around enough, and then tightened his fingers, he would get what he wanted--delicious goodness like he'd never had before.

He could hear others around him laughing. He turned a little, and flashed them a grin that would stop traffic. He knew by now that his grin would get people to pay attention to him. But he quickly turned back to the package of goodness. He needed, wanted what was in that package.

Finally the flailing paid off and his fingers closed around one. It was long, skinny, and bendy. He held it in triumph for a moment and then turned. Turned and fled to the one who would help him.

He scrambled over to the Poppa. The one who would help. He knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that the Momma would probably say "no," or "That's enough," but the Poppa would help. He toddled over as fast as his one year old legs would carry him.

He put his hands out in front of him, in supplication to the Poppa. One of those hands held the goodness. If he had known anything about colors in this world, he would have called it red goodness. If he had known anything about plants, he might have called it vines. But he didn't know any of those things. He only knew of goodness.

The Poppa reached out and took the goodness from him. Then broke a piece off and gave it back to him.

He put it in his mouth.

And was satisfied. . .

For as long as it took him to swallow.

He looked back to the Poppa for more. Surely there was some left. But no. The goodness was gone.

He turned and looked back at the couch.

The package was still there.

And he went back for more.

(To my nephew whose grin can stop traffic and who loves Red Vines) (True story, btw.)
Labels: edit post
12 Responses
  1. Kimberly Says:

    How sweet! Figuratively and literally!

  2. Abra Says:

    Awwww so descriptive and poetic sounds like a sweet kid!

  3. I LOVE IT!!!!!! That was so funny. Oh, my little lover of all things sweet and delicious. He does have an amazing smile doesn't he? Those big lips and deep dimples. Aghhhhhh. Thanks for this. I'll be putting it in his book!

  4. LexiconLuvr Says:

    I love that he knows Poppa would be the one to give him what he wants. =] Aren't Poppa's great?

    Beautifully written, Eowyn!

  5. How did I miss this post for eight whole hours? Sweet, sweet, sweet post1

  6. Kazzy Says:

    So so cute. I hope you love being an aunt as much as I do!

  7. Melanie J Says:

    Awww, that sounds awfully familiar to what goes on around here. So cute!

  8. Wow! I love the moment you captured ... especially how the wee one went to the Poppa and not the Mama. So very true :) !!

  9. Brillig Says:

    I agree that this reads like poetry. So, so sweet! (My kids would have gone to Poppa too...)

  10. Swistle Says:

    OMG, that is ADORBS. He can bring them to me! I will help!

  11. charrette Says:

    Fabulous post. Some of your best writing. I love the way you captured the moment and pulled me in. (I honestly can't believe it took me this long to get over here and read this. The title caught my eye the second you posted it.

    Love you --

  12. Red Vines!

    I love them!

    But they must be very, very stale.