Donovan Kelly

Late summer afternoons can turn rudely hot on the Serengeti Plain of northern Virginia. I struggled to ignore the heat and to embrace sleep. Then I heard the soft patter of small feet sneaking my way. Wild beast or wild girl-child?

Hot breath fell on my nose, pushed by an impatient soft voice. “Paw, it's time to get up.” I opened my eyes as her never-cut, five-year-old hair tumbled over both of our faces. Such beautiful eyes.

“Time to get up,” she said in the strange accent of her tribe. A frown crossed her face as she took away the small soft lion that I had been napping with.

“OK Izzy,” I mumbled.

“I'm not Izzy,” she said, and I felt her frown increasing. “I'm Donkey Isabella and you're Shrek.”

Already I was in more trouble. I had forgotten rule number one of her tribe: your name was whatever she said it was. Rule 2 was something about not taking naps on her time. Rule 3 limited the number of soft animal friends that I could play with. The small lion was sick and off limits today.

So many rules. So little time to learn them before grandchildren grew older and the rules change.

“We don't have to pay the troll today,” Alice informed me. At eight, she is the elder rulemaker of our three grandchildren.

“But we always pay the troll to cross over his bridge,” I protested in all my adult ignorance. On our Wednesday morning walks to school, Alice has always carefully bent down over the hole in the sidewalk culvert and asked the troll if we could pass over his bridge. Sometimes she left flowers and sometimes a coin. I, of course, do not know which days are which and relied on Alice to secure our safe passage.

She accepted my long-established ignorance with a patient sigh and explained, “We don't have to pay because today is a holiday for trolls and they don't have school.”

Silly me, foolishly relying on the newspaper to keep me informed about local holidays.

“Eh, eh, eh,” Elijah said, pointing vigorously at the front door. In Elijahan, that meant, “Outside now, Paw.”

A few toddling steps past one and his list of rules grew rapidly. The newest was “You will go outside with me whenever I demand and hold my hand while I wobble and toddle wherever I want.”

So many rules, so little time. Soon enough the day will come when we will stop talking to trolls and stop holding hands while wobbling and walking together. Soon enough I will be allowed to nap whenever I want and with whatever soft toy I want.

May the gods bless and keep that day, far, far away.