When Miss M left Granny and Grandad’s this morning she acquired a small gift, an item from Granny’s latest ebay purchase. As we travelled to pick up her Daddy from band practice, then onwards towards Grandma’s house, she held it close to her tiny frame. Her eyes focused on the task in hand. Her lips pursed, intent on a single pursuit. To pop, pop, pop.
At Grandma’s her thoughts were momentarily elsewhere. A cuddle with Uncle Peter who is visiting from Torquay. A discussion about where Miss E is. (She spent the day at her friend D’s house.) A new dress that flares out like a ballerina when she twirls and skips and dances. But when we climbed back into the car she returned to her task, pop, pop, popping until her eyes closed, her head fell to her chest and her fingers rested on their air cushioned plastic bed.
On the way home we stopped off to buy bread. I stayed in the car with Miss M as she slept. To make her more comfortable I tipped her chair backwards and gently lifted her head so that it was cradled in her seat. She stirred. She looked at me. Her hand sought her gift and she pop, pop, popped…just three times, and then her eyes closed once more and her fingers stilled.
As I sit now at my laptop, Mr B is at my feet, the new BBC series of Merlin is on TV, and I am serenaded by a cracking sound, a snap of plastic releasing air, a bubble pressed between idle fingers, and I think back to my child’s self soothing polythene lullaby.
My husband lets out a sigh, gets up and leaves the room. I hear the sound of a cupboard door being opened, a rustle of rubbish upon rubbish, and he returns empty handed.
Me: ”Have you finished them?”
Mr B: ”Yep.”
Me: ”Do you feel all fulfilled and satisfied?”
Mr B: ”Ho yes.”
Me: ”Well you’d better watch it. Miss M will be asking for that in a bit.”
And he looks guilty for a moment. Just a second of regret, then he shrugs and his eyes return to the screen.
I grin and flick him on the shoulder.
Me: ”I hope it was worth it.”
Mr B: ”Oh but it was. Sighhhhh. It really was.”
He leans back against the chair, calm, relaxed and filled with that sense of achievement that always comes when a task is complete.
And I realise that at that moment, for Mr B, nothing, no nothing compares to the wonder, the satisfaction, the complete and utter joy that is bubble wrap.
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October 25th, 2008 at 3:06 pm
I used to have such a thing for bubble wrap too. Not so much anymore. I wonder why. It’s sorta sad.
October 25th, 2008 at 4:06 pm
Give her this from me.
October 25th, 2008 at 5:40 pm
Oh, the lure of the magic bubble wrap. It seems like father, like daughter…
October 25th, 2008 at 7:00 pm
I have a work colleague who cannot resist BubbleWrap, Jo. He must be related to Granny!
October 26th, 2008 at 7:13 am
in the office pantry on the counter is a HUGE roll of bubblewrap .. the end that is not coiled is flat .. burst .. all the ‘bubbles’ are burst because someone – NOT ME – cannot use the copier without popping some bubbles … I am betting its a man ..
October 26th, 2008 at 8:07 am
Why IS that silly stuff so addictive?!!!
October 26th, 2008 at 11:09 am
Have you ever come across that virtual bubble wrap? You move your mouse over the bubbles, and they pop. It’s really realistic (but not the same experience).
October 26th, 2008 at 3:46 pm
Jen, me too. It’s weird isn’t it, but it’s kind of comforting n a weird way.
WT, thanks, I think I love you. ;D
Mie, yeah, I definitely blame her dad.
David, it’s a disease I tell you.
Daryl, definitely a man.
Sybil, I don’t know but it just is. Maybe it’s the static electricity, it draws us to it and we cannot escape.
Iota, WT sent me the link in his comment above. It’s fabulous, hee hee.
October 26th, 2008 at 8:25 pm
tee hee….what a wonderfully written post. I figured it out, but it took awhile.
gotta love bubble wrap.