This morning we used our rental car to drive into the heart of San Francisco to spend the day with our daughter, Heather, and her foster baby, Victoria. They live in at part of the city known as North Beach, which is at the base of Coit Tower and is part of the Italian District. Thus, they are literally just foot steps away from many of the best restaurants and bistros in the world. They are also right next door to Washington Square, a nice tree dotted, grassy park where you can walk your dog, watch groups of people doing various oriental exercises to music, and where there are various festivals held throughout the year. She is also just a block away from Chinatown, a robust, bustling area where the streets are lined with large food stands, chock full of various fruits and vegetables. As a young adult, you can not find a better part of the City to live in.
When we arrived, we discovered that Victoria was a bit under the weather, still recovering from a bout of the flu. Poor Heather was exhausted, not having much sleep these last few days, having to care for Victoria being under the weather and working full time.
I had dropped Mary Margaret off at Heather’s condo while I went to park our car. When I arrived at Heather’s place, Mary Margaret had already made up her mind that she was going to spend the next day or so with Heather to help take care of Victoria so Heather could get some more sleep and to babysit Victoria during Monday and maybe Tuesday while Heather worked. If Victoria is still ill during Monday and Tuesday, Victoria could not go to her daycare center and will have to stay home.
Despite being ill, Victoria was still be bundle of energy and somehow maintained her sunny personality with her smile beaming; filling whatever room she crawled to with warmth and happiness. This is the happiest kid we have ever seen… even when ill!
However, I must admit, while Victoria was sitting in my lap, watching Gazoon cartoons on my laptop, my impressions of her did waiver. In fact, I ending up calling her something that grandpas should never say. I called her a “shitty little kid”!
Now, I hope you will find it in your hears to forgive me but I did have a basis for this outburst. Sweet, innocent, smiley little Victory had what is lovingly called by parents a “blowout” covering Grandpa’s lap and sweater with diarrhea. Yuck, Double Yuck, and Triple Yuck!!!
Grandma and Heather rushed over to cleanup Victoria and rescue a sludge covered Grandpa. Since I did not have a change of clothes with me, Grandma took my clothes to the laundry room for a quick wash and dry. Grandma and Heather both were so great in rescuing poor ol’ Grandpa from his misery and helping to clean him and Victoria up.
With both Victoria and I cleaned up, we all settled down to a spaghetti diner with me sitting in just my socks, underwear and shirt as my clothes were in the wash. Over dinner, I explained to Victoria that while she will not remember this experience, poor ol’ Grandpa will, and someday I might be able to laugh at it. Mary Margaret and Heather do not have to wait that long as they chuckled over the experience during dinner.
I wish I could post a picture of beautiful Victoria to this blog as you can see the eternal smile that she has. Unfortunately, as a foster child, the social services department does not allow such social media postings so you will just have to accept this picture that only shows the back of her head. This was taken only seconds before the “blowout” as Victoria and I watched Gazoon cartoons