Dog-sitting and grief

Part of a new school year means getting the church ready for a new Sunday school year—no small task after covid left everything in a state of disarray.  I brought Liz and Caleb along when I went to help with the classrooms, and happily there were snacks for the volunteers.  I took a granola bar with me on the way out when we were done, which I was eating as I drove us home.  Unfortunately, I took a sharp turn and the half-eaten granola bar flew off the cupholder where I had set it to the far corner of the passenger door.

Caleb, sitting behind the passenger seat, said, “I’ll get it!” and reached his skinny arm through the gap, but he would’ve needed Mr. Gadget arms to get anywhere close to it.  It wasn’t until I pointed to where it really was, and he peered through the crack and spotted it that he realized he would never reach it…at which point he sat back and said, “Oh. I grieve with you.”

Several days later whatever residual grieving we were doing was turned to joy, since we got to dog-sit Bear all Saturday.  (By “us” I mean mostly the girls, although Caleb and I helped a little.)  Jason only helped by making up terrible “bear” puns all day.  

I did get my granola bar back, by the way.  All it took was a stop sign and Lizzy clambering over the seat for me.  Grief averted.