Something Special for Mummy

Jeffy opened his eyes. It was starting to get light outside.

Then he remembered how at bedtime last night Mummy had told him that he "had to be a better boy tomorrow" and that she was "frustrated with how much trouble he was causing lately". Worse, she had used her sad-angry face when she said those things (which made Jeffy more afraid than when she used just her angry face).

Then he also remembered that today was Mother's Day, it was not a school day, and that on days like today he was allowed to get out of bed and read a book as long as he didn't wake up Mummy and Daddy: "Mummy will be happy with me if I sit and read a book until she wakes up," he thought.

So he got out of bed and he went downstairs to find a book that he could read on the small, blue couch Mummy and Daddy bought him on his last birthday.

Before he got to his couch in the den, though, he had to walk past the family room. That's where he saw the tv and the clicker sitting on the foot-rest thing. This gave him a different idea.

"Hmmm...", thought Jeffy, "Daddy showed me how to turn on the tv and he told me the number that has all my shows on it. Mummy will still be happy with me if I sit quietly and watch tv without waking her up."

So he picked up the clicker and pointed it at the tv. But before pressing any buttons, he saw the smiley face sticker on the back of the clicker and started pulling at it with his fingernail. Before he knew it, the sticker came off in his hand and the little door on the back of the clicker opened up. Out fell four small batteries.

"Oh no. The clicker needs batteries to work and I'm not allowed to touch batteries," he realized, "but sometimes Daddy turns on the tv by touching the button on the bottom of the picture. I can do that and Mummy will be happy that I didn't touch the batteries and still watched tv without waking her up."

He walked over to push the button on the bottom of the tv. But next to the tv he saw his markers in a bag, right where Mummy had put them after he finished drawing last night before bed.

Jeffy got an even better idea: "I'll draw Mummy a picture! She loves when I make her pictures. And I'll write Happy Mother's Day on it just like they showed me at school when I made that flower card for her."

He grabbed the markers and brought them to the kitchen table. He sat down and poured them out of the bag so that he could draw (some of the markers rolled onto the floor, but he was already sitting so he left them there for now).

Then he realized he needed paper, and paper was in the den.

He stood up and went over to the den and up onto Mummy's desk where the printer sat (the printer that held the paper he needed). He reached into the printer and pulled out a few pages. While he was doing that, he noticed his Mummy's big coffee mug with some coffee still in it.

Jeffy got another great idea: "I'll bring Mummy's coffee mug to the kitchen and put it near the sink. She loves it when I help clean up after dinner and bring my dishes to the sink. This will make her so happy."

He took the mug, tucked it under his arm that was holding the paper, and tried to slide down from the desk. But the desk was a little higher than he thought and he hit the floor hard. This knocked the mug out from under his arm and it spilled on the desk, on Mummy's computer, on the chair, on the carpet and on the paper.

Jeffy wanted to cry, until he saw the shape the spilled coffee made on the paper he was still holding in his hand. It looked like the trunk of a tree! "Mummy loves trees and the park. I'll draw her a picture of a tree in the park using the spilled coffee to be the trunk. That will make her soooo happy. It'll be the best picture ever."

He went back to the kitchen, slipped a bit when he accidentally stepped on a marker, but regained his balance and sat back down in one of the kitchen chairs (wiping his coffee-wet hand on the chair so that it wouldn't get on his picture). He found a green marker by digging around in the pile of markers on the table (a few more rolling off the table as a result). And then he took the top off the green marker and got ready to draw leaves on top of the spilled-coffee-trunk. But try and try, he couldn't picture in his head what the top of a tree looked like so that he could draw it on the page.

He remembered the potted tree at the front door and decided to push it into the kitchen so that he could look at it as he drew his tree picture. Still holding the topless green marker, he walked to the door and tried to push the tree. It was heavier than it looked but when he lay down and put his hands against the wall he was able to push it hard enough with his feet so that it moved...and then started to tip over. He tried to grab the falling tree, swinging the green marker wildly along the wall, then the floor, then the pot, but didn't get his hands onto it in time. It fell with a loud crash.

Then he heard running footsteps upstairs and saw his Mummy coming down the stairs with her worried face.

Without even making it to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, looked around, and saw everything all at once: The clicker lying in the family room with its door open and batteries scattered all around it; Coffee puddles on the den carpet and on the desk and on her computer; Markers strewn all over the kitchen floor and table; Little wet hand marks on the kitchen chair; Fresh, green lines on the hallway wall and floor; Her favourite potted tree lying on its side with dirt spilled everywhere; and Jeffy lying next to it on the floor looking very guilty.

"Are you okay, Jeffy?" his Mummy asked, with her worried face changing into her sad-angry face.

"Yes Mummy," he answered.

"Can you tell me why the house looks the way it does right now, Jeffrey Randall Belmont?"

"Because I wanted to make you happy for Mother's Day," he answered.

"And how was this going to make me happy?" she asked.

"I was going to be downstairs all by myself, let you and Daddy sleep, and read a book. Then I decided to watch tv instead. Then I decided to draw you a picture instead. It was going to be a picture of a tree in a park. And I was going to put you and me in the park playing."

His Mummy walked over to where he was still lying, picked him up and carried him into the family room. She put the batteries back into the clicker and turned on the tv. They lay down on the couch together. And that's where Jeffy's Daddy found them snuggling an hour later when he finally came downstairs too (he didn't hear the crash because he slept with plugs in his ears).

Jeffy's Daddy asked what happened. Jeffy's Mummy said, "Jeffy made me happy by doing some really sweet things for me for Mother's Day, and we're snuggling. Would you mind cleaning up a little while we finish?"

"Okay...", he said, before continuing in a quiet whisper (so that Jeffy couldn't hear him): "... but Mother's Day was weeks ago..."

Jeffy's Mummy ignored him and kept right on snuggling with her sweet little son for whom every day was Mother's Day.

The End

An Open Letter to Door Dekers

If you've ever walked in a crowd through doors that swing shut on their own, you've probably encountered a Door Deker (term coined here on this date in Toronto, Ontario, Canada). Heck, you might even be one. Door Dekers are those who make their way through doorways in crowded places and carefully avoid touching the closing door - at all - thus ensuring that it swings shut in the face of the person behind them. It is to those people that I address the following open letter...

To all Door Dekers,

On behalf of the people who walk behind you in crowds, trying, as you are, to make their way somewhere important... you need to know what you do to us when you cross the threshold of a closing door without intervening in its momentum towards closure. We can only assume that you don't know, because otherwise we'd have to think that you are selfish and sadistic individuals (I choose my words with care, because my intention is to inform and not to inflame).

When you deke a door, for whatever reason, you are ensuring that it will collide with our noses (our most protrusive body part when we're walking forward in haste) and forcing us to take countermeasures that involve sacrificing some other part of our body because we like our noses.

Perhaps you have learned about the spread of infection and how touching unclean surfaces can endanger your health. Perhaps you are unaware of common courtesy. Perhaps you are deep in thought and oblivious to the fact that you are walking in a crowd. Perhaps you are texting and with your hands occupied, don't wish to bring another appendage into play. It doesn't matter the reason because the result is invariable and inevitable: By avoiding contact with the door, you are forcing contact for the person behind you.

Now, let's be clear; our ask of you is not that you hold the door for us, stepping aside gallantly so we can pass in front of you. That would be asking a lot, I suppose, and completely unnecessary. Instead, the ask is that you somehow slow the door's swing, with a shoulder, with a sleeved arm, with a foot, or with your hand if it's available and you're not concerned about infection. Imagine how that would help those of us who are behind you. And it seems like so little. A trifle, really.

We are people too, those of us who walk behind you. We have loved ones. We have somewhere to be. We have lives. In other circumstances, we could even be friends of yours. But when you deke a door, you are telling us that we don't matter; that you'd prefer to cause us pain (or at least annoyance) rather than violate your own desire to not have a door touch your body.

Enjoy the rest of your day, but know that our day won't be what it could have been because you, dear door deker, are a prick.

Sincerely,

The People Behind You.