Five-year-old William had done the unthinkable and hurled his younger brother’s sunglasses up into the air and over the hedge.
You may remember me doing something similar in a fit of jealousy, with my sister’s silk knickers? Could this be a family trait? I shan’t admit such a thing.
The first I knew of the incident was when William came running in from the garden calling out,
“Grandma, Grandma, you’ve got to help me!”
Of course, I dropped whatever I was doing and followed him down the garden.
Three-year-old Elliott stood with a sorrowful expression, by the hedge.
“William,” (pronounced, Wi’yam) “threw my sunglasses into the hedge,” he told me, in his gruff little voice.
“I didn’t mean to! I just threw them up and they went up, up and into the hedge…” William protested, re-enacting the scene by waving his arms about.
Leaving aside the question of why he had the glasses in the first place and why he had thrown them up and over the hedge, I turned my attention to the problem in hand.
“Can you get them, Grandma?”
This last came from Elliott, looking at me with all the confidence a three-year-old can muster in his grandma.
The Laurel hedge is very thick. It is not quite as thick and as prickly as the hedge in which Flossie became incarcerated recently, but it is thick.
As Elliott was standing by a section of the hedge, I had to assume the glasses had somehow landed in the vicinity.
I peered through the branches. Of course, I couldn’t see much except leaves and thick branches. Maybe the glasses had landed on top of the hedge.
This hedge is an interior hedge that is meant to be kept at a height of three or four feet. However, Laurel grows quickly as any gardener will attest and right now, it was nearing 5 feet high. Reaching over, I swept the upper reaches of the hedge with my hand, receiving a few scrapes and scratches for my trouble. I worked my way along, peering through the branches, to no avail. Are sure you threw the glasses in the hedge?” I asked, as I emerged from a particularly dense patch.
William demonstrated exactly what had happened. Since he was standing some way from the hedge, I was doubtful that the glasses had in fact made it that far.
William assured me they had, though he did not seem able to point to the exact area.
Finally, I stood back and admitted defeat.
‘Please don’t tell my mummy, grandma!”
I studied his earnest little face. Memories of those silk knickers and nightie came back to me. Alas, my own mother had seen exactly what had occurred. No good would come of trying to keep this from Laura of course.
“Well, William,” I said, in my most grandmotherly voice, “Your mummy will have to know or she will wonder where Elliott’s sunglasses are, won’t she? But I think it would be better if you tell her, that would be the best way,”
William looked horrified at the thought but his expression of pure terror soon cleared and he grinned in triumph,
“I know, Grandma, I have a really good idea. I will go and get some shoes on,” (I noticed he was barefoot, Huckleberry Finn style), “I will go into the hedge, find the sunglasses and then it will be all right won’t it?”
He was so certain his plan would work that I hadn’t the heart to dissuade him.
Racing up to the house, he reappeared wearing his shoes a few seconds later and began looking for ways into the hedge. After some little time he had to give up.
His mother, realising something was going on, had appeared in the meantime and was of course, not best pleased, not least because she had just issued both boys with their sunglasses in preparation for going on holiday. Fraught after a day of packing, cleaning and preparing, Laura gathered her brood up and headed for home, with a tearful William in tow.
I did feel for him. I could well remember how one impulsive act can have such devastating consequences for a child.
I am sure there will be other incidents such as this and one day in the future, perhaps when I have finally had enough of this hedge taking up half the garden, I may uproot it and find a small pair of blue framed sunglasses, sitting on a gnarled old branch.
Mind you, if it is anything like the time I buried the shed key beneath the blackcurrant bushes in a game of “hunt the key,” when I was four years old, it could be a good few years before those sunglasses see the light of day again.
No one can be cross for long with such little imps though..
The school holidays mean that my house has become a playground again for boundless imagination. Here are two boys flying through space in turbo charged chairs…
While one little girl gives Flossie a haircut…
…and another little girl sorts her brothers out on the last day of school…