Nash forgets the ants on his towel and pouts, a serious look in his eyes. “Bad people hurt cows.”
Kara turns to him. “It’s a bull.”
“It’s not,” Kelli replies. “Daddy just said it’s not alive.”
“It’s dead?” Evander makes a yuck sound.
“Are there baby goats at the bar?” Kurt asks. “We petted baby goats this one time and one ate food from Kelli’s hands and she cried cause she was scared.” He chuckles and Evander joins him.
“They licked me too much,” Kelli says and punches her brother on the arm.
“No hitting,” I say sternly.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
“If the bull is dead, aren’t its eyes closed?” Evander asks with a serious expression.
A long breath comes from me. I look over at Z and shake my head. “We’ve completely lost the narrative, man.”
Julia clears her throat, a smile of amusement curling her lips. She and Sugar stand together, their arms crossed. “The mamas have decided. We get a fifty-one percent vote in all things associated with safety. No axe throwing, no bull petting, no knocking apples—or grapes— off of heads, and no bars for our children.”
I put up my hands, conceding defeat. “Alright, alright.”
“What about a place full of pinball machines?” Z asks. “I saw one online next to the axe throwing place. It’s a huge arcade with some cool machines from the eighties.”
“Is it a bar?” asks Sugar.
He lets out a resigned sigh. “Never mind.”
“How about an amusement park?” I suggest quietly to the mamas so the kids don’t hear and go ballistic. “I know it might rain, but I’d love to see those terrors driving some bumper cars. Me and Z will take them and you and Sugar can shop,” I add, sweetening the pot.
Julia gives me a knowing glance. “You’re the one who wants to drive a bumper car, aren’t you?”
“Definitely. I’m gonna ram Z in one. Oh, and they have a racetrack and batting cages.”
Sugar thinks. “Nash will want to ride the carousel, like, a hundred times, it’s his favorite. Last year he rode it so much, he barfed all over the unicorn he was on.”
Z joins our quiet convo. “I’ll ride it with him. I’ll clean him up if he pukes.”
Sugar laughs. “Who’s gonna clean you up?”
“I’m a hockey player. I’m used to spinning.”
Sugar nods. “Okay, but you both need to take lots of pics. Julia, does that sound good to you?”
She thinks. “We can grab some lunch and catch up without the kids. Sounds good to me.”
Later, Julia folds up her lawn chair and addresses the kids. “All right, munchkins, creek time is over. Everybody clean up. Let’s go up to the cabin and chill for a while. Maybe play a game.”
“Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share. Clean up…” The kids sing together as they grab toys, towels, and paraphernalia.
As we head up the hill to the cabin, my mom’s voice comes from the back deck. “Who wants freezer pops?”
The kids start running toward the porch, calling “Me, Gigi, me!”
Even Z’s kids call her that.
My mom laughs. “Come on up to the kitchen then!”
“Mom, it’ll ruin their dinner,” I grumble. Julia has taught me well.
“What are you talking about? It’s literally frozen sugar water. They’ll be fine,” Nala responds as she joins my mom at the railing. She leans on her cane. The kids call her Nana.
My mom nods in agreement. “Right. And we get to spoil them. It’s our calling as grandmothers.”
Can’t argue with those two.
The two grands have turned out to be friends, even though they have little in common. Julia’s mom lives near us in Virginia at an assisted living home. We tried to get her to move in with us, but she said she didn’t want to intrude on the newlyweds. After the triplets were born, she stayed for six months to help us out, then left because she said she didn’t want to intrude on our family dynamic. I get it. She still wants to be somewhat independent.
My mother isn’t the shell she was after my brother’s death. She’s vibrant and content, and I guess having grandkids has softened her grief. She visits a lot, but only for a few days at a time. Whenever she does visit, she picks up Nala and they shop, visit the monuments, or just hang out. I truly have no idea what they talk about, but it seems to involve a lot of laughter.