I jumped in my seat as the opening notes of Star Wars blared from my cell phone. Hearing that ring tone never fails to get my attention since it means only one thing - my son was calling; and I, of course, would drop everything to answer.
Seriously, it wouldn’t matter if I was in the middle of taking some delectable soufflé carefully out of the oven. My son was calling me, and I was going to pick up.
This time, though, instead of hearing his voice, my seven-year-old grandson’s cute little face popped up on FaceTime. A quick peek at my image in the bottom corner confirmed I looked less than optimum; I thought he wouldn’t notice my lack of make-up or that my hair looked messy.
“Hi Grandma. Where are you? You look funny!” proclaimed little Stevie. Seriously, only a grandmother would ignore a comment like that. I resisted the temptation to remark that his hair was also uncombed and that, although it was early afternoon, he was still in his Spiderman pajamas.
“Hi sweetie. It’s so good to see you! What are you up to and where’s your dad?”
Dad answered, “I’m right here Mom. Stevie’s off from school this week and he wanted to have a FaceTime meeting of the “Plushie Club” with you.
Ah, the Plushie Club - the newly launched organization of the stuffed animals that reside in my grandson’s bedroom. It was no surprise that this little guy had appointed himself as club president. He had drafted his dad to be vice president, and I had been tapped for the position of secretary, although it’s doubtful Stevie knew what “taking minutes” meant.
His dad played camera man and we headed down the hallway to Stevie’s room for the meeting. Climbing onto his bed, he sat surrounded by the full club membership and, in a very official sounding voice, proclaimed: “The meeting of the Plushie Club will now come to order.” I couldn’t help but grin as I saw he had pinned the “Stevie, President Plushie Club” name tag I had sent him a few weeks before to his pajama top.
“First, I want to show you my newest plushies,” the young president announced, immediately presenting each new stuffed animal that had taken residence since our last meeting. There was “Flipperino” the dolphin, “Mr. Squawky” the Toucan (who looked suspiciously like he had jumped right off a box of Froot Loops®) and, of course, his brand new “Harry Potter Squishmallow™.
“Daddy, I think Grandma and I can do this meeting by ourselves ok?” He grabbed the phone from my son’s hands and shooed him out the door. The next few minutes were a whirlwind of show and tell as Stevie held the phone with one hand and tried to show each new stuffed animal on camera with the other. Flipperino sailed through the air, flying in and out of imaginary water while Mr. Squawky cawed, “hello, nice to meet you Grandma” in his best squawky voice. I could only assume that Harry was performing magic somewhere under the covers on the bed.
Not known to sit in one place for too long, Stevie soon started running back and forth from his bedroom to the living room, up and down the hallway to find more items to share with me. But instead of seeing more toys, all I could see was the ceiling - the ceiling in the bedroom, the ceiling in the hallway, the ceiling in the living room - all captured by the phone camera’s every swaying movement. Clearly, his cinematography skills were not yet fully developed.
“Stevie, all I see is the ceiling. Can you please hold the phone still a little bit?” I pleaded.
He quickly looked at the camera and proclaimed: “But I can see YOU Grandma!” Ignoring my appeal, he continued on his merry way, chattering happily. Our meeting continued like this for another five minutes as I resisted the dizziness I was feeling from the rapid camera movements. Truth be told, while I couldn’t actually see much of Stevie, I really didn’t mind a bit. He had called to share something important to him and I was loving every single second.
A few minutes later, my son managed to retrieve his phone. It was time to adjourn the meeting and say goodbye to my favorite Plushie Club president. As we hung up, I found myself wishing he could stay this young forever, just like I had hoped his dad would at that age.
As for his camera skills, I reminded myself that even Steven Spielberg started somewhere.
© 2024 Annie Sokoloff
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