CAN’T FOOL AN 8-YEAR-OLD MATH MANIAC

Brooke’s boys came Saturday

To help unload a trailer full of compost

Grandpa picked up at the landfill.

“Those boys are such GOOD workers,”

Ed observed.

They even helped him mow the lawn.

Eight-year-old Karlton earned $20.

Thirteen-year-old Isaak earned $30.

Monday foolish Grandpa got another load of compost.

He has an infected toe that

Needed a bit of surgery

So he was still gone

When Brigitte rode her bike over on Tuesday.

“I came to help.”

Not only was he not home,

He wasn’t ready for them.

The boys showed up about the time Grandpa got home.

They mainly watched TV and played computer games.

Isaak helped Grandpa build another grow box and

The two boys moved a few wheel barrows full of compost into it.

Brigitte helped plant tomatoes and peppers

In Grandpa’s plastic garden.

The boys were bored and ready to go home.

“We were only supposed to stay two hours

and we’ve been here four.”

I agreed to take them home.

“Where’s our pay?” Karlton wanted to know.

“Pay?  You didn’t work. Too, I would have to charge you

for television and computer time; plus the banana.”

Karlton itemized all he had done

So we agreed to pay them later when the load is done.

Just before we reached their house,

I teased:

“Be sure to tell your dad how we saved you money

because you don’t have to pay tithing.”

“Grandma, when you gave me $20, I only lost $2.

I still had $18.”

And when you gave me $50 for my birthday,

I only lost $5.”

You can’t fool a math maniac.

(Self-description.)

They skipped part of a party
to come back on Friday
to finish the job.
They evidently like to pay tithing!

     When their dad was about Karlton's age, he told me one day that he wanted to be a mechanic when he grows up.

 "No, you will be a doctor," I emphatically state.  He was such a scholar.

“I don’t want to be a doctor.”

“You shall and you will take care of all our medical problems.”

“But I want to be a mechanic.  I like to work with tools.”

“Perhaps you can be a mechanic on the side,” I relented, “it will cost a lot to get my car fixed too.”

(It’s his dad’s fault.  He had Brooke help him tear the motorcycle apart and put it back together—three times.)

Brooke was silent for a few blocks as I was hauling him over to his field trip with Beth Sanders, then calmly he informed me, “I’ll still have to charge you.”

“Me?  Who hauls you to field trips, slaves over a hot stove, scrubs, cleans, cuts your hair, cheers for you at the Raingutter Ragatta, wipes away your tears when you lose, listens to you say—after being at Camp Kiesel from 6 AM to 6 PM and to Lagoon from 6:30 to 9:30--“What can I do?”  YOU would charge ME?”

“Just a little.  Only about $3,"  he grants.

Brooke working on merit badge.  His great grandfather was Jonathan Heaton.

Then about two months later, Ed, Amy, and I were in an automobile accident and even though our car was totaled on the freeway, none of us received a cut or a bruise.  A mechanic was needed; a doctor was not.  I decided right then and there, I would never again trifle with our children’s dreams.

Elizabeth, Klarissa, Brooke, Karlton, Isaak, Brigitte Hugh on Isaak's baptism day December 25, 2005

 Do you want to know what Brooke turned out to be?  First a music and German teacher; then a seminary instructor.  First and foremost a good husband and father.