Note: Not for the faint at heart (or stomach).
Ok, it's not that bad, but I thought I'd give fair warning. We have a six-year-old boy, and I am about to reveal his secrets. And six-year-old boys find bodily functions funny (as do their dads).
***
A month of so ago, Gabriel took an entrepreneurial turn: he decided to open his own restaurant at Bubbie and Zadie's house. It is an upscale, outdoor venue with a single-item, but daring menu: rock soup.
Anyone who walks into the backyard while Gabriel is working is drafted into service. I recently joined him there.
"Dad, do you want to learn how to make rock soup?"
"Eh, well, eh..."
"Great! Let me show you!"
Gabriel assembled three metal bowls Bubbie and Zadie had donated to his restaurant. He grabbed a nearby scoop. "First, you fill this with rocks. One scoop at a time," he cautioned, looking up at me to confirm I understood. He demonstrated. "Now you try."
I took the scoop and contributed one pile of pebbly rocks from the backyard's walking path.
"Good job," Gabriel said. He took the scoop from me and contributed one himself. "We take turns," he advised.
After a few minutes, we had three bowls of rocks.
"Next," Gabriel said, picking up a bowl. "We add the water." He walked over to the nearby wall fountain. He dipped the bowl into one of the trickling streams until it was filled to the brim with water. "You try."
I took a second bowl. I had only filled this one about half-way with rocks. I explained to Gabriel that this was the low-calorie version for people on diets (yeah, I'm not much for scooping & playing in the dirt). I filled it to the top of the rocks with water, eliciting another "Good job!" from Gabriel.
We returned to the walking stone we were using as a prep area.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Let's go on the swing," he offered. We left our bowls for a moment to use the two-seater, porch-type swing nearby. We swung a few times, trying different combinations of him pushing off, me pushing off, me braking the motion with my foot, Gabriel looking for the source of the breakage, then admonishing me.
"Ok," he said, "now let's eat."
Gobble, gooble. Nothing like pretend rock soup in the late afternoon, I thought.
Gabriel made a throwing up sound and turned over his bowl. The rocks and water splatted and smacked against the walking path stones.
Gabriel beamed, "How do you like my restaurant: Rock Swing UpChuck?"
I smiled. "Love it."
Soon afterward, I was reclining on a nearby patch of grass with Hannah. She and I were talking and singing. Gabriel stood over me.
"Dad, time to work."
"I'm on break."
"Ok," he said. Gabriel popped back into the house, looking for more workers to draft into service.
Gabriel played this game for probably an hour before dinner. He went back outside after dinner to play again by himself. No sooner had my dad and I finished a conversation about how cool it was that their backyard was a safe place for Gabriel to play by himself, we heard the scream.
I sighed. Gabriel is an adventurous boy. Most of our days out end with that sound: screaming and crying. It was very, very familar.
Janette and my mom headed out to check on Gabriel. Soon after, they rushed him inside to the bathroom to clean the inevitable wound.
"What happened?" I asked Janette.
Apparently, Gabriel, while managing his restaurant, came across Bubbie and Zaddie's windmill lawn ornament. Gabriel spun the wooden windmill blades, admiring inertia in motion. Then he decided to take a closer look.
Yes, the windmill further taught him about the consequences of interrupting inertia with your face.
Auntie O' asked Gabriel if he wanted to go back outside and play Rock Swing UpChuck again.
"I'm never playing that again," Gabriel brooded.
By the time we headed home that night, Gabriel had revised his position. "I mean I'm not going to play that right now, but I might later."
Good news, I thought as Gabriel's former employee, Rock Swing UpChuck would see its star rise once more.
-- Dad
