We rode to the library to read to a golden retriever this afternoon.
Actually, I rode to the library. Two miles, mostly uphill, with 100 pounds of kid in the trailer behind me, and by the time I got there I was sweating so generously I was almost embarrassed to go inside. But I did, because there she was, Esther the Sweetheart – Essie, her handler called her – and she was waiting for us.
Essie’s a therapy dog – she and her colleagues go to nursing homes, to hospitals, to schools and libraries, and they make themselves available for needful hugging. She and Clifford, her big red friend, were there yesterday out in Chatsworth to offer a sliver of love in a pile of broken glass and steel and lives. But today was not a train wreck. Today was just Read to a Dog day at the Westlake Library, so we rode the two miles – I rode – and Mia read while Max listened in silence. So okay, Read to a Dog and Max day.
Parents weren’t allowed in – the idea, apparently, is to give kids a chance to build confidence by reading to someone other than their parents, even if that someone is a retriever. A napping retriever, I should add – Essie only woke up when Mia was done and I came back to pick up the kids.
No matter. Those kids have been wanting a puppy for years now – they don’t let a dog pass in the park without petting it – or in Mia’s case, barking at it in a vain attempt to communicate. So reading to a dog? For 20 minutes? Even a sleeping dog? Are you kidding?
Heaven.
***
Three hours earlier I was carrying Max on my shoulders and watching Mia lock down the goal box against vicious pressure from a team calling itself the Kickin’ Crabs. It was Mia’s second game in AYSO, and she held them off for a good three minutes before one shot finally made it through, and then another, and then two more, seemingly on the same play.
Good thing they don’t keep score in U-7 Girls AYSO.
The highlight last week came when one of Mia’s teammates got the ball on a breakaway – just her, the ball, and the goalie – but stopped mid-run to wave to her parents. There was nothing quite so spectacular this week, though a big girl on the Crabs got a breakaway of her own and almost scored before her coach reminded her that she was heading in the wrong direction.
No, this week the highlight was Chicken Nuggets afterward with Grandma and Zeyde.
***
Home from the library was easier, the 100 pounds of kid, plus five extra pounds of books, pushing me downhill. We ordered a pizza and watched Singin’ in the Rain. The kids objected – just last night they rented Thumbelina and Balto II: Wolf Quest, and they were eager to watch, but I made them a deal. If they didn’t like Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor, we’d turn it off and they could watch their movies.
An hour into the film, they were standing in front of the television with umbrellas open – Dora and Tink umbrellas, for the record – and twirling, and when O’Connor did “Make ‘Em Laugh,” Max broke into hysterics (“He walked right into that wall!”). I paused it at one point and asked if they wanted their other movies, and they just stared at the frozen screen and waited. But when it was over and I fished for positive reviews, I got none. “I don’t like movies with real people in them,” Mia explained.
And yet as Max climbed into bed after a bite-sized Hershey bar and a date with a toothbrush, he was singing the title song, clear as day.
“What a glorious peelin’…”
***
Tomorrow I think we’ll try to make a volcano out of brown construction paper.
