Miss G's parents are due to touch down just before 1800 today, and so I have to give her back. We are at her house in the city today as she has gone off to the first day of her swimming camp. She did not want to go. The granddaughter does not have a pick of fat on her anyplace and this means that in cold water she turns blue and purple in about five minutes. At her camp she has two half hour lessons a day in 72 degree water (why does Apple not use common symbols, she said plaintively - or at least the codes I know?) and I will probably have to thaw her out this afternoon in spite of the hot day outside. Plus, the games are boring, I am told.
Her aunt, when I repeated this to her, laughed a lot and remarked that after she has had hot and cold running grandparents for two weeks, almost, anything would be a comedown. Probably true.
Grandpa took her out in the punt on the beaver pond, for a day fishing and swimming (cold, Grama!) and zooming in the big boat on the Rideau Canal system, shopping (they found a minuscule snapping turtle on the way home and brought him back in the truck bed, installed him in a luxury condo for the day and then released him into the big beaver pond), dog walking and has provided an enthusiastic ear to her daily summer reading task. In French.
With Grama she has learned to use the sewing machine to make endless bags and, finally, a dress, painted, swum daily in our indoor pool (85 degrees) and played water games, done lots of other crafts, shopped for a new bathing suit, and generally hung out. Plus she has had our adopted cat to play with and helped me take her to the vet. She has eaten and drunk precisely what she wanted, gone to bed late and slept in (!), and read in English and played with her video game without time limits. We got front seats at the local Canada Day firework display and it was excellent. If this is not Nirvana for a nine year old, it must be pretty close.
Her besotted grandfather asked me to mention to her parents that if she really can't stand the camp, we could have her back to our place for a while longer. Her aunt, while laughing, did point out that I do not need to have her elegant little foot on my neck quite so much. Ah, well. Soon she will be grown past the point that she needs Grama for a playmate so I should gather ye rosebuds while I may.
In other news, the Vet estimated the cat's age at one to two years, so she is not a kitty, just a very small (and opinionated) cat. When the YD brings her large and gentle dog out to visit and spreads the dog's bed out, the cat sprawls out on it and Shammy goes and sleeps elsewhere, looking put upon. We will be looking after the dog for much of July and I am wondering just how these two will co-exist long term. At present it appears that 7 lb Callee Cat is the boss, but we will see. 60 lb Shammy could make one mouthful of her.
I must now go and stock up my poor jet-lagged daughter's refrigerator. Miss G is almost out of fruit.
Edited Wednesday to add:
Gave her back last night, but not before she passed her deep water qualifier at swimming camp. Grama is proud.
Grama is reading the newspaper without interruptions. But we miss her.
