the bottle brush (aka: A grandma tale ;->)

     Only for (my) record keeping purposes do I tell you, that this particular tale happened two weeks before Thanksgiving. 
     Right off the bat, it had started off as one of 'those' mornings.
     All four of the guys had headed off to work early. That is not always the case, due to the jobs that both Byron and Benson have. Which at times, has come in ever so helpful. Especially when the grandchildren are here! But on this particular day, they were all up and out at an early hour.
    And both of the grand kids were up early too. That isn't always the case either. Oft times, you get to start off with only one or the other of them, which is good for several reasons. The top two being, one on one time with the awake grandchild, and less to keep track of right off the bat, which helps make my brain getting in gear, happen more smoothly. ;-p
    And both of the grand kids just seemed to be 'off' that day. As in, not all that happy. Not easily pacified. Rather demanding. Both filling their diapers at the exact same time, and both seeming to be competing for having the grossest one. Etc.. It hadn't taken long for me to realize, that it was going to be one of 'those' days.
    And a long one at that. The earliest anybody was expected home, was just after six p.m..
    At one point, I had laid a hungry Elliot on top of a blanket on the floor, while I went into the kitchen to fix him a bottle. As I headed there, I heard the usual, "I coming Gammy...". "That's okay, you can keep.... (don't remember what she had been doing), you don't have to come". I knew it was probably useless to even try. Any time I headed anywhere, I'd usually hear,  "I coming Gammy...", repeatedly, until she appeared at my side. But this time, I was really hoping she'd take heed. As bad as it might sound, I just wanted to have a moment of calm, while fixing that bottle.
    But it wasn't to be. Suddenly there she was. Jabbering away and grabbing away. At any and everything her arms could reach. Off of the counters. (Insert eye roll here). Or out of the drawer somebody hadn't closed one hundred percent of the way. And wanting answers to all of her jabbered questions. Answers my fuzzy brain was having challenges answering straight. Sigh.
    And of course this time, Elliot's bottle needed more than just a good quick wash out. It needed a complete scrub down, and bad. So I got the tap water to maxed out hot. And I added a lot of dish soap to the bottle, as well as the bottle brush. And I was trying ever so hard to concentrate on what I was doing. And what she was doing. And console Mr. Elliot, who had gone from fussing, to out and out bellowing, that I WAS fixing his bottle and I WAS hurrying.
    I washed out the nipple and rim part of the bottle first, rinsed and set them aside. Then I attacked the bottle itself. But doing so had taken a whole three and a half minutes, because I had also kept interrupting Analyse's actions and Elliot was totally NOT happy! I took a deep breath and tried to work faster. That was my mistake. Because in focusing on getting the job done, instead of focusing on every step of the process, I ever so innocently laid the bottle brush down next to the sink, instead of sticking it in it's designated holder on the window sill.
    I tell you, I think a sonic boom happened. I had barely laid the thing down, before faster than lighting, her little hand snatched it up. Goodness! "What are you doing?"  "I washing". Sure enough, she was. She was using the bottle brush to wash down the front of the drawer and cupboard next to the sink. 'Well, the whole kitchen really could use a good scrub down', my brain thought. And I let her go. She was happy. He had some how increased his bellowing (I hadn't thought it possible). I turned back and started filling his bottle.
    Without really looking at her, I walked out of the kitchen with his full bottle in hand. I knew she was following me, due to the "I coming Gammy...". "Okay".  I picked him up and settled into the rocker. She tried to squeeze behind me. I kind of thought that she wanted to see something out the window. I was concentrating on getting him settled down and comforted. But then I could not figure out what I was hearing, so I turned my head to look at her.  She was cleaning the windows and the window sills, with the bottle brush!
    'Fine', my brain figured. I'll just make sure I clean it good when I take it back to the kitchen, when he's done with his bottle.
     But then I felt her finish going behind me and sort of pushing up against my other arm. The one next to the 'end table' (I use wooden crates). As quickly as I figured all of that out, I heard a different weird sound. I looked down, to see that she had now stuck the bottle brush into my glass of Pepsi(R).  My half full glass of Pepsi. 'And I bet the bartender isn't going to bring me a refill either, is he?" I thought to myself. Then wondered why I had, seeings how I've never really been to a bar. I sighed. And then it dawned on me. That half glass of Pepsi, was the last Pepsi  IN  THE  HOUSE! And nobody else was home, nor due home, before 6 p.m. And it was only 10:30 a.m. Huge sigh.
     I looked back at her and asked, "Why did you do that?"
     With a totally puzzled expression, she answered, "I clean it". Almost like, 'why doesn't Grammy get that?'
     I shook my head. In both frustration and defeat. I was also wondering why she would try to clean a glass that was still half full.  And then the answer came to my mind. 'So that Maxine could burst out laughing when I post about this.' And I chuckled.
     Analyse tipped her head sideways. Her expression became even more confused. It was as though I could read the thoughts going through her young mind. 'Gammy sounded upset with me, but now she's laughing. Am I in trouble, or is she happy I cleaned her glass?!?"
    
     The whole day continued on in that same vein. And nobody brought me Pepsi till close to 8:30 that night. But I did good. Nobody was injured during the course of the day. o;-p  With a chuckle (or ten), my father-in-law said that he was very proud of me, when I told him the tale that next Sunday.