Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Childhood (09/03/09)
- TITLE: Drama Queens
By Dianna Schnabel
09/04/09 -
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Mary watched her girls practice their “twirl jumps” on the trampoline as she scrubbed the scorched pan from that morning’s oatmeal. She absently hummed along to a Big Daddy Weave song while mentally planning the errands she needed to accomplish that day. Her husband needed shaving cream, Sally needed a new pair of ballet shoes, and she had to drive her mother to a doctor appointment.
Mary stepped out the back door as she wiped her hands clean on a sunflower yellow dishtowel. “Girls, time to pick up Grammy for her appointment!”
“Yea! Grammy!” Sally and Amy wasted no time in climbing down from the trampoline and running to the deck with pink socks flashing. Mary smiled and tousled their light brown curls, marveling at their identical pixie grins.
Complications during her pregnancy with the twins had led to an emergency caesarean delivery. Doctors had only given the girls a forty percent chance for survival, and Mary thanked God every day that her babies had defied the odds.
“Ok girls, what do we wear on our feet when we go somewhere?”
“Shoes!” they shouted in unison.
“Right. So get your shoes on and then we’ll go pick up Grammy.”
Ten minutes later Mary finished strapping the twins in their car seats and climbed into the minivan. “Mom-my,” sang Amy, “we want to hear a God song.”
“Of course, sweetie.” Mary turned up the radio for the girls to sing along with and sent up a silent prayer of thanks as she backed out of the garage.
Mary had a strong faith in God and she loved it when her girls requested Christian music or asked her to read out of their picture Bible. She especially loved their bedtime prayers, when they thanked God for every person they had ever met, and some of the animals too.
Two-and-a-half songs later Mary pulled up in front of her mom’s red brick house. The girls’ Grammy bent over to give them a hug as they raced across the crunchy ocean of leaves covering her lawn. Sally turned a hopeful glance toward Mary as she approached the stoop. “Mommy, can we stay outside and jump in the leaves?”
“Sure, baby, just make sure you stay in Grammy’s front yard; we have to leave in a few minutes.”
“Ok!” the girls chorused, jumping off the front steps at high-speed.
Mary held the door open for her mother and followed her into the house, relishing the seasonal smell of cinnamon and apples that wafted from carefully placed jar candles. She had barely heard the click of the screen door when the sound of wailing broke out in the yard. Sensing a ‘hurt’ cry, rather than the usual little-girl whininess, Mary turned and rushed outside.
She met the two crying girls at the bottom of the steps, concerned by the hysterical inflection in Amy’s voice. “What happened?” she asked, wrapping her arms around the twins.
“Ameeee--got bited--by a beeee!” Sally sobbed.
Sally’s distress on Amy’s behalf was touching, but her frantic clinging made it difficult for Mary to concentrate on Amy’s wound. Mary looked over her shoulder at her mother, who had followed her outside. “Mom, can you calm Sally down while I take care of Amy?”
“Yes, of course. Sally, why don’t you come inside with Grammy and help me find a Barbie band-aid for your sister?”
Mary picked up Amy and followed the still whimpering Sally back into the house. After checking Amy’s leg to make sure the bee’s stinger was not lodged in the wound, Mary sat down and cuddled Amy to her chest.
Mary looked over at Sally, who was now hiccoughing from too much crying, and then down at Amy, who was still wailing pathetically. Mary smiled at the dramatic scene her girls were creating, then laughed out loud when Amy called out dramatically, “I want to go to heav-ennn!”
“Sweetie,” Mary asked, “why do you want to go to heaven?”
“Because,” Amy tearily huffed, “God is in heaven, and Jesus is in heaven, and no bad things happen there.”
Mary laughed again at the irony of her daughter’s comment. Amy had survived a premature birth and several weeks in an incubator, but she was ready to give up on life because of a bee sting. If this was an example of feminine emotion, God help her when the girls reached puberty. She might have to move out to the garage with her husband.
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