Jeff Adams

Saturday night at the Adams’ house is normally very tame and lame. Cheryl is putting finishing touches on her Sunday school lesson for four-year-olds or doing some such thing, and I am usually studying a little ahead, catching up on correspondence and reviewing for tomorrow’s sermon.

Our youngest grandkids are spending the night. Kiersten is seven, Joseph is four. Both have red hair. That’s all you need to know. (See their dad’s blog comments on this subject here) All bets are off.
6:00 The smell of pizza wafts through house, overtaxing the ventilation system and threating to set off the fire alarms. On the surround sound, cosmic booms from Star Wars shake the house and alarm neighbors. A four-year-old Jedi warrior sits on the couch intently focused on saving the universe from the Clones. A seven-year-old demonstrates why she is already over-qualified to be the activities director for a cruise ship. (See her mom’s blog comments here)
“Spin me around again, Papa!”
“No, that’s enough. You’re heavy. I think I pulled something in my back.”
“You spun Joe two times.”
“Okay. Okay”

7:30 Bedtime. “You’re going to sleep in MY bed????? You’re kidding!!! That means I have to carry you little munchkins to the other room once you’re asleep.” giggle, giggle, giggle.

9:00 I carry the seven-year-old to the other room. She hangs draped over my shoulder like a duffel bag packed for a tour of Iraq. The second trip is for her brother, Yedi arms and legs shooting out in all directions in the half-crazed panic of an interrupted dream of a duel with Darth Vader. The dogs follows at my heels excitedly.

10:00 I sense motion to my right. A red-headed girl smiles and says, “Grandpa, do you remember when you carried me into the purple room? You really woke me up, but I played like I was asleep. Now, I can’t go to sleep because Joe is kicking me.
10:15. “Papa, Joe is still kicking me and I can’t sleep.
10:25. You guessed it.
10:45 The dog bails out and sits yelping to get into the adult bedroom, giving credibility to the red-headed girl’s complaints.

11:00 She’s back. “Grandpa, I just can’t get to sleep.”
Okay. Come here. Crawl into my bed, but you’d better stay in the middle, because I want a place to sleep when I come in and I’m not carrying you back into the purple room again.

These are good times. I’ll be ready to preach tomorrow. Forgive the circles under the eyes.