No More Somersaults

by Donna Poole

The only sounds in the room were logs breaking apart in the fireplace and Grandpa Bob turning the pages of his book. He looked up at a loud snap, saw sparks shoot up the chimney, and smiled. He liked nothing better than spending a snowy morning next to the fire with a good book, and he loved the new mystery he’d gotten for Christmas. It was a perfect, lazy-day Saturday. He pushed aside the thought that he had too many lazy days. He might be too old to work, but he was too young to do nothing day after day.

Bob looked over at Bella. She was wrapped in her new blanket, cuddling her Christmas teddy bear, and sucking her thumb. The picture of four-year-old contentment, he thought.

Alice stuck her head in the family room door. “Bella! Act your age! Quit sucking that thumb! Even your preschool teacher complains about that.”

And about other things too, Alice thought as she headed to the kitchen. Maybe they shouldn’t have put Bella in the expensive preschool that promised to have students working at a first-grade level by age five. Bella had tested ready for the accelerated curriculum, but lately her teacher had been suggesting they place her in an easier program.

Bella’s thumb made a popping sound as she pulled it from her mouth. Her face crumpled as she thought about preschool. She didn’t like preschool. The other kids could read a few sight words; she couldn’t even print the alphabet. The others could add and subtract small numbers, but she couldn’t. She was the only one who could count to one-hundred though.

Bob hoped his face didn’t express his thoughts. Alice, can’t you just let Bella be a kid? And I wish you and Andy would reconsider my offer of letting me homeschool her until she starts first grade. I miss teaching, and I know how to help Bella. She needs manipulatives for math and phonics for reading. I was an expert in both, even published papers in educational journals. A slower pace would help her too. Does it really matter if she learns to read when she’s four?

But Bob didn’t say a word. He’d learned not to interfere with Alice and Andy’s parenting. He appreciated living with them, but in many ways, it wasn’t easy.  

Bob heard Alice rattling pans in the kitchen. He hoped she’d be in a better mood by lunch. He heard Bella sniff. One tear ran down her cheek, and Teddy was on the floor.

“Hey! What do you say we teach Teddy how to do somersaults? Prop him up on the couch there so he can watch us.”

“Are you going to do somersaults, Grandpa Bob?”

“Sure! Why not?”

Bella giggled and put Teddy on the couch, giving him a good view of the floor. Bob struggled a bit getting out of the recliner. His right knee snapped, and he winced. He intended to put that knee replacement off as long as possible.

Bob tossed a sofa pillow on the floor, gingerly put his head on it, and rolled over with a crash. Bella roared with laughter, and Andy came running.

‘Bob! What in the world are you doing?”

“We’re teaching Teddy how to do somersaults!” Bella said, still laughing.

Andy wasn’t laughing. He helped his father-in-law off the floor. “It’s a miracle you didn’t break something. Act your age! Seventy-year-old men don’t do somersaults.”

“Obviously, some do,” Bob said dryly. Everything hurt, especially his knee, but it was worth it to see Bella laughing instead of crying.

Andy looked at Bob and Bella grinning at each other. In spite of himself, he laughed.  “You’re two of a kind!” He left to help Alice in the kitchen.

Bob could just imagine the kitchen conversation. Would he end up in a nursing home next?

“Grandpa Bob, why do Mommy and Daddy keep saying to act our age?”

He hugged her. “Oh, honey, they want the best for us, and they don’t always know how to make that happen. Hey, speaking of age, do you know how many years older I am than you are?”

Bella shook her head. “I know you’re seventy and I’m four, but I can’t do numbers. I heard teacher tell the parapro I’m not smart.”

That teacher is looking to get fired. Bob swallowed his anger. “Get me your scissors and some paper, please.”

Bob cut seventy squares and laid them on the coffee table. “That’s seventy squares, one for each of my years. You take away how many years you are.”

Bella picked up four squares.

“Sit on those.”

Bella laughed and sat on the four squares.

“Now count how many squares you have left. That’s a way to subtract your four years from my seventy years without using paper.”

Bella knew she could count to one-hundred, and there weren’t that many squares. This was going to be easy.

With their heads close together, neither Bob nor Bella noticed the noise from the kitchen had stopped. They didn’t see Alice and Andy standing in the doorway, watching them.

Bella yelled, “Sixty-six! You are sixty-six more than me! I subtracted from a bigger number than they do at preschool! I did it! I’m not stupid!”

About half an hour later Andy called, “Get your coats. We’re going out to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Bob asked. “I thought I heard Alice fixing lunch. Why aren’t we eating here?”

“We’re celebrating New Year’s a little early,” Andy said. “Do you want to come or not?”

“I’m always good for a meal out.”

Bob looked around the upscale restaurant. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed a nice steak dinner out, and this was Bella’s first time.

Alice looked up from cutting Bella’s steak into tiny pieces. “Happy New Year, Dad,” she said. “Here’s to new beginnings. How would you like to homeschool Bella until she starts first grade? Andy and I’ve decided you’ll do a much better job than the teacher she has now.”

“Really?” Bella squealed with delight.

Bob sat silently, unable to say anything.

“Dad, don’t you have anything to say?”

Bob swallowed the lump in his throat. “Can we hold hands and pray? I suddenly feel about ten years younger and very thankful.”

Andy sighed. “Make it snappy; I don’t want my steak to get cold. And about that ten years younger thing? You have to promise, no more somersaults!”

Bob nodded. It was a small price to pay. Anyway, his knee didn’t seem to appreciate somersaults as much as he did.