Saturday matinee

 

 

 

 

We've been busy this week--picnics, play dates, beach trips, swimming, library time--which I attribute mostly to my sudden return of energy and an ongoing desire to soak up summer.

Today, however, after N departed for Saturday work, and I was brandishing a new tube of sunscreen and a stack of towels for a morning at the beach, my plans for yet another outing were met with withered enthusiasm.

"Who wants to go to the beach?" I announced, expecting great whoops and leaps of joy from my freshly breakfasted and still pajama-clad cherubs. They were watching the credits roll down the TV screen post "Curious George" on PBS. No response.

"I don't want to go to the beach today," L droned, with more than a slight whine.

C offered his daily mantra: "After nap, we go to zoo. See animals."

They just needed a little time, I thought. If I drag them outside, the blazing sun and fresh breeze will inspire them. They really do want to go to the beach. They just don't know it yet.

So we snuggled on the couch for a visit with Dr. Seuss and Bill Martin Jr., after which I was certain they would be ready to hit the sand.

"Let's have a puppet show!" L shouted.

She jumped up and ran to the cupboards where we keep our play things. I obliged, putting up the curtain on our stair landing to set the stage. I knew we would never make it to the shore at this rate. Ugh.

Then something marvelous happened. My children took over plans for the day and I backed out. Brother and sister dove into puppeteering with astonishing patience, encouragement and creativity. They put on show after show in our make-shift puppet theater, and we laughed and cheered for each performer like the most loyal theater patrons.

These artists created the most captivating shows from our tiny puppet stash--a motley assortment of popcicle-stick-and-cardboard creatures and some old socks with button eyes and felt pieces sewn on to make them into animals.

C's first act consisted of jamming three surly pirates onto his tiny fingers and proceeding to growl. He ended every show with his signature move of tossing puppets off the stage in a sort of grand finale. We clapped loudly at this every time.

L incorporated stuffed animals into her performance for a story about friends at a magical tea party. She even came off-stage to add in a jump-rope act for extra spice.

My job was to cheer and boo in the appropriate places and to keep juice, snack mix and cherry tomatoes on hand for weary performers. I even entertained the audience with my own show at intermission.

Once we had exhausted all story options, we cleaned up and decided to flop our kiddie pool onto the green strip out front and fill it with hose water. We also dragged out tricycles, baby dolls and sidewalk chalk to help us enjoy the sun. At least we were getting outside, if not out to the beach.

For lunch we slurped alphabet soup with grilled cheese in our garage, with the door flung open wide to allow a view of the street activity and to keep our outdoor time going just a little longer before rest.

And I announced--with enthusiastic agreement no less--that today had been the best day of the whole week.