The Notorious Blob

      Years ago when my second oldest grandson Luke was less than two years old I decided to 'star' him in one of my home-made video sketches, the kind that occasionally go viral on YouTube (though mine never do). I took an old bean bag chair and made it appear in my video that it was “the blob”, climbing stairs by itself and going after Luke as he played on our bed upstairs. In the video I rescued Luke from the blob, threw it back down the stairs, and put it on a “time-out.” The whole video ran about a minute. 

     Ever since then, that bean bag chair has been like the monster that hides under the bed or the thing that makes a noise in the attic. One or more of my grandkids, all of whom have seen the video, at various times are fearful that the beanbag blob IS real, regardless of HOW many times I say it was all just pretend. So I keep the beanbag chair in the basement. It never appears upstairs whenever the grands are around.

     Still, that's not always good enough.

     My four-year-old grandson Owen confronted me about the beanbag blob just this past week. I told him that it was not only in the basement, it was way at the far end of the basement in my little man cave.

     “Is the door shut?” Owen asked.

     “It is shut,” I replied truthfully.

     “Is it locked?”

     I think I fudged the truth, since the question took me by surprise. My man cave has a flimsy door with no lock but it made no sense for me to lock it even if it had one. A cave by definition shouldn't even have a door let alone one that locks.  But Owen was not assuaged either way and refused to venture down the basement where his older brothers were playing at the time.

     Then Owen's cousin Gwen, also four, was here around the same time. She learned, possibly from Owen, that the beanbag blob was in my room. She asked why I put it there and I told her so it wouldn't scare anyone.

     “Is the blob your friend?” she asked.

     Hmmmmm, another question that took me by surprise. But I can see why my granddaughter asked that. She watches all these cartoons and Disney movies with magical characters that all get along so wonderfully. So I fudged again, saying yes, the blob was my friend.

     “Why?” she asked.

     “Why??” I responded

      “Yes, why is the blob your friend?”

       I was stumped.  I guess I should have refused any follow-up questions. Maybe I should have pretended I was leading one of those presidential press conferences and just said, “Let's go over here to Davis for the next question.” A typical question from this two-year-old grandson goes like this:

     “Grandpa, do you wear glasses?”

      Why yes, Davis, I do wear glasses. And that is the unvarnished truth.