Mr. Wiggles and the Missus

Ella was visiting. Her family was busy at a no-dogs-allowed event: the Santa Claus parade. Mr. Wiggles was excited. He knew. He just knew family of the four legged kind was coming to visit. He'd heard the call and knew the cast members involved. He was excited. Mall Cop, the ever-endearing, lovable, no nonsense kind of guy, was no longer here to supervise. Heaven had beckoned him, too.

The excitement was palpable for our Mr. Wiggles. A new way of being was upon us. Sally our late 14- year-old Labrador Retriever and Mall Cop, the Terrier professor had died this past summer. A brother to Ella and a sister to Mr. Wiggles. It was an emotional shock to all. We are still in mourning and struggling. I guess loving too easily and deeply has its down side.

Ella is coming into her own, realizing that Mr. Wiggles, the towering love mobile, is her part time companion now. There is no hiding that fact. She attempts to play with him. He, at 86 pounds; she, at 18. But she loves her running marathons so away she goes. We follow her. He doesn't mind. Glad for the company anytime.These two are the same age, born one day apart.

Wherever she trots, he follows. She must know what she is doing and where she is going 'cause he doesn't, never has really. He was always a part of four. Now two. The plan has changed. Oops, there was never a plan. Just follow that tree or not. Indoors, these two pets are in charge. Where would you like to rest? Each picks his/her own special spot. My opinion doesn't matter. Nor should it.

I'm thrilled that Ella is here helping Mr. Wiggles adjust and acknowledge his place with others of his kind. His sister was his world and without her guidance now, he's not sure anymore. I try but Ella serves as the best reminder of who he is and where he fits in. Dogs are loving reminders of all things human. 

Ella, thank you for visiting and helping the memories come alive, again and again, reminding me of the gang of four. Come back soon. Please. I need you, too.

A Bad Parenting Fee?

We entered the restaurant with our group: 4 children, 5 and under, one day, many years ago. It was a treat, an experiment, perhaps. Could we do the impossible? They understood the requirements for success. If this visit failed, a simple sandwich at home would be the alternative, less stressful for the adults albeit much learning for the wee ones. Being a parent was my job not theirs. It was an easy do for me.

As the six of us ate, we were approached by a delightful senior citizen, amazed at the solitude on display at this long table in the Ponderosa. She remarked how well behaved they were as they ate their dinners. “Are they all yours?”, she asked. “No, just the boys", I replied. She was moved by the scene of quiet deportment. Courtesy, politeness and a big smile were the only requirements for admission here.

Today, some restaurants are considering a penalty of $50 to parents of unruly children. I rejoice at the suggestion then realize who is being penalized, really? And is the lesson being learned? Perhaps a reminder to the children to tone it down might be a better idea, initially, anyway. The prickly situation needs addressing, nonetheless. If ignored, what's next? Young children do not understand the concept of $50 for what they love to do normally. Let them unleash their high energy antics at home - where it belongs - not here.

Children are always being managed in a continuum of safety measures to protect them. Strict protocols are in place, regularly. (Save the word 'no' for the future when its use has immediate and significant potency. It's more fun then, too). While our progeny are out of control remind them of the plethora of recording devices available to showcase their behaviour to grandparents. The choices are limitless. A visit to the car to wait helps to re-establish the power structure and the need for quiet so easily forgotten in public. The benefits of solitude are in place now. Other's might be interested in knowing their talent to disrupt. Grandpa, grandma, a close family friend, perhaps? 

There are times when noisy children are expected. A restaurant is not the place! Turn it down now! Conversational skills will be practiced here, quietly and respectfully. Co-operation is a must! Our own children knew that eating out was a special treat, a privilege, a destination to be repeated, to those who deserved it. Even the babysitter can be used in a pinch. At no time was I ever held 'hostage'. I was in charge, anyway? I held power. I was the parent, after all. 

The rules of etiquette were in place.  Behaving properly in public was an expectation. Toy stores were no exception. Home was another jurisdiction where rules were relaxed and energy and imagination, explored. Children must be allowed to sing, dance, create and 'imagine' - but at home. In a restaurant their role was to dine, engage in conversation, while showing respect to the diners, farmers, animals, chefs and wait staff who have all toiled, skillfully, over time, to provide us this enjoyable dining event at a cost to mom and dad. Let us say "Thank you".

"Dear children, think quickly, how will this situation resolve itself. I will endeavor to wait. You have one minute to decide. Then it's my turn! Looking forward to the exercise."