Never Ever Neverland

Many people tell me they can't remember hardly anything before the age of five years old. I find that odd since some of my most vivid memories are around the age of 3; most of them having to do with my Grandpa Lewis. He was Titan and, in my mind, could do no wrong. I remember the motorcycle, the boat, and the camper that sat in the driveway on Majesty Court. I remember camping in that camper and seeing the biggest spider I've ever seen to date and my first woodpecker. I remember the dish of Andes' Mints he kept next to his recliner (always on the left side), and how he let me crawl into his lap and eat as many as I wanted. I remember getting help on the Easter egg hunt in the front yard; just the two of us swaying back and forth on the big swing in the backyard. There was the tray of creme wafer cookies on the table that I could actually smell when I walked in the kitchen.....................I remember dirt under Grandpa's fingernails, and his tool and trinket cluttered garage with the wooden cabinets. I even have this vision of him standing in his mechanic jumpersuit that said "Clyde" across the shoulder. My favorite memory is playing in the ditch by the side of the garage and spotting a snake slither right into my brother and I's adventure. It was no more than a foot-long garden snake, but I was about knee high and a girl. As soon as I popped out of that ditch screaming bloody murder, Grandpa grabbed the shovel and in one uninterrupted motion chopped the head clear off that snake, leaving me and my brother standing there with our chins on the pavement. I truly remember having a moment where I thought, "No one will ever be that cool.........."
He died a month after my fourth birthday, forever remembered as a saint.

I have a little boy in my kindergarten class who is an absolute terror (stay with me on this). His name is Justin and he not only marches to his own beat, but he tries to play that beat on everyone else's instrument. Half of my time is spent reprimanding him. It's constant. I decline stickers and games and candy; I yell, put him in timeout, threaten to and send him to the principal. At least once a day, sometimes twice, I take recess time away from him. And the kid loves me to death: He comes in every morning and wraps his arms around me. He holds my hand to and from the bus; he sits in my lap, he carries my books and supplies for me; he brings me chocolate and pastries. He plays with my hair and tells me it's oh "soooooo bu-e-ta-fil!"
I'm just wondering where in the heck he got this pedestal view of me? How in the world did I win him over? Something must have reeled him in, or are kids really just that accepting? I'm wondering if in 20 years, after a string of jaded teachers and bosses he'll all of a sudden look back, and think, "Dude, what was she all about? I was always in trouble and missing out," or if I will forever be preserved in his memory just as I am now, this Mary Poppins figure who floated in and out of his life? Once in awhile I think kids are so much smarter than adults.........