Uncle Henry Talks to God

Dad's first week in Virginia was interestingly eventful.  My nephews, Jeremy and JJ, were pleased to have someone else in the house to torment...I mean, PLAY with.  The first dilemma was "What should we call Donna's Daddy?"  After a few hours of thought, Dad settled on "Uncle Henry."  That was fine - until the five year old started thinking about it. 

"So is he the Daddy and you're the Mommy?" asked JJ.

"He's MY Daddy," I explained.

"But is he the Daddy and you're the Mommy?"

"He is MY Daddy and I am DAYNA's Mommy."

"So he's the Daddy and you're the Mommy."

"No.  Not like that."

"But you're Aunt Donna and he's Uncle Henry."  :-/

"Well, yes, I see why you're confused now.  We're not married.  Like how Uncle Glen is Uncle 

Glen and I am Aunt Donna but I am not married to Uncle Glen.  Uncle Henry is MY Daddy.  I am DAYNA's Mommy."

I think he finally understood at some point, but it took a while.

Dad was a lean, mean, packing machine!  The man didn't stop!  If there was a box, he found stuff to put in it!  If there wasn't a box, he FOUND something to use as a box.  The living room?  Cleaned.  Garbage out.  The dining room?  Same deal.  The kitchen?  Done.  We were seeing floor that hadn't been heard from in MONTHS. 

I sat out on the front porch with a cup of coffee one morning and kept Dad company. 

"The lady across the street just went inside," Dad reported.

"What lady?" I asked.

"The one in that house there."  He pointed directly across the street.

"Dad, it's a guy who lives there."

"Well, there was a lady just outside smoking a cigarette."

"No, Dad.  It's a young guy.  He's like in his mid-twenties.  He lives alone.  There's no lady there."

"Well, it LOOKED like a lady."  Dad then proceeded to pull his glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on his face.  "Nope.  These aren't helping either."

"You're not wearing your hat today."

"I can't find it.  The boys hid it on me."

"Are you serious?  They stole your hat?"

"Yeah.  They did it yesterday, too.  I found it in the pantry then, though."

Sigh.

Almost as if on cue, the front door opened and two loud, boisterous boys came barreling through allowing the door to slam shut behind them.

"JJ!  Did you take my dad's hat?"  A look.  "Did you?"  A weird smile sort of expression. "Go get it and give it back."  He retreated into the house without a word.

A few moments later he returned, hat in hand.  He handed it over and advised, "It's going to be cold, though.  It was in the freezer."

I really wish I could say that was the only thing the boys hid on Dad.  It wasn't.  Maybe I should preface by saying this is not a Catholic household.  Lisa and Dave were both raised Christian, but they are not church goers.  They are spiritual in their own way, but they are not Bible readers nor do they mention Jesus.  I am open in a more philosophical, metaphysical way with the boys.  I teach eclectic respect, differing belief systems and mythologies and such.  So Dad and his openness and visual presence was a bit different for the kids. 

They didn't understand his meditations.  They didn't understand his pacing the back fence and mumbling.  They didn't understand why they couldn't bother him when he was doing that.  And they didn't realize that the little red beaded bracelet with the cross was NOT just a pretty little bracelet with a cross charm - UNTIL they hid it from him and we got VERY angry about it and made them give Uncle Henry back his Rosary Beads so he could "talk to God."  After we explained what Uncle Henry was doing, JJ asked Uncle Henry to ask God next time he talked to him to make his nightmares go away.