When my daughter, Katherine, first invited me to The Breakers in Florida to babysit for Tripp, I imagined dipping his tiny toes into the ocean, or sitting on the edge of one of the four pools and gently splashing his chubby legs protected by SPF 60 sunblock. I figured we'd drop in at some of the activities my daughter was orchestrating - perhaps wave "bye-bye" at the dock as the catamaran adventurers set sail, observe a croquet match, peek in at dinner. I pictured us strolling lazily up and down Worth Avenue.
Not.
Tripp is five and a half months old. The wind blustering off the ocean took his tiny breath away. There would be no toe dipping, nor would an ounce of chlorinated pool water mar his perfect skin.
On the first day, as we unpacked and opened our sliding doors that gave onto the ocean, admiring our sumptuous adjoining rooms and marble baths, Katherine glanced at my clothes hanging in a color-coordinated row in the closet.
"Why did you bring all this?" she asked. "You're not going to be seen."
"I'm not?" I asked. "By anyone?"
"No, remember, your job is taking care of Tripp."
The schedule was rigorous. The door between our rooms opened at 6:00AM the following morning.
"Rise and shine, nanny," my daughter sang. This didn't mean "rise and shine, Nanny," as in dear beloved Grandmother, this meant "rise and shine, nanny," as in servant. Well, to be honest, a servant with room service privileges and pretty much carte blanche.
After feeding the baby, Katherine disappeared to attend to a myriad of tasks and organizational details to do with the arrival of approximately 60 women who had earned a deluxe three-day, all-expenses-paid vacation at one of the most luxurious resorts in Florida. Tripp and I were left to ourselves.
We read the cloth edition of Goodnight Little One.
We played with our red dinosaur pull toy.
We explored the hotel and discovered where Beauma could purchase her three daily cups of cappuccino. We strolled along the brick boardwalk by the ocean, and through the gardens by the raised herb beds with little signs proclaiming: "Pardon Us, We're Germinating." We found cozy corners under porticos, we gazed at expanses of flower-bordered lawns. If we were lucky, one of us napped.
Katherine and I kept in constant text communication.
Me: "When will you be back?"
Katherine: "In a few hours."
Me: "Can I have my break then?"
Katherine: Long sigh. "We'll just have to see."
My break consisted of racing to the gym, working out for slightly less than an hour, flying into the shop to purchase a smoothie, and speeding back to my tiny charge.
"It's about time you got back," my daughter would say. She had Things To Do: 60 goodie bags to pack and make sure were delivered, meetings with hotel personnel to attend, schedules to plan, menus to oversee, transportation to and from off-site events to coordinate. I just had the baby.
At night we took turns reading verses from the onomatapoeic oeuvre Roadwork. We invented a game. First Katherine chanted, "Plan the road. Plan the road. Mark it on the map. Hammer in the marking pegs. Bing bang tap!" Then, I would repeat the refrain, "bing bang tap!" in Donald Duck. Tripp caught on fast. He would turn to look and listen to Katherine, then swivel his head to me. In case you didn't know, "bing bang tap!" in Donald Duck is howlingly funny. Just ask the baby.
One day, Tripp and I were gazing out to sea at fishing boats and trawlers when a line of dolphins leaped and dove and leaped one behind the other right in front of us.
"Tripp just saw his first dolphins!" I texted my daughter.
"He saw his first dolphins with YOU?" she texted back.
"He did," I replied.
"Don't even think of taking him down to the ocean," she told me later. "I want him to see his first ocean with me. I'll smell his feet and I'll know."
I sang "Edelweiss" to my grandson, and held him in my arms for hours and hours and we engaged in long one-way conversations. While to the casual observer I might have appeared to be a dotty woman under an enormous sun hat in Ray Bans talking to herself in a dreamy, singsongy voice, Tripp listened intently.
He learned about palm tree bark.
And magical shadows.
And color.
And when his mama had finished all her work and all the ladies had gone home, he was very very happy.
We kept the fact that he had glimpsed his first parrots to ourselves.
The End
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