Escape!

 

Life Without Tricia rolls into Day Three and we’re both still here, although I think some of my coworkers had serious doubts heading into the weekend. Students took exams all last week, so those teachers who didn’t have a test to give or to grade sort of milled around the teachers room drinking tea all afternoon. Typically, I too, would have nothing at all to do, but for some stupid reason, I volunteered to grade the English portions of all of the first-year final exams, of which there are hundreds, and being an English exam, nearly all of it, surprise, is in English. Anyway, taking a break for marking up the tests, I mentioned to a small group of tea drinkers that Tricia flew back to America for a job interview and would be gone a week(gambate Tricia! – I love the word gambate, as it is fun to say, and basically means “go for it/do your best/good luck/break a leg.” It’s one of those cool Japanese words like tycoon that needs to find a prominent place in the English lexicon). When I mentioned Tricia would be gone for so long, many an eyebrow was raised, and one woman actually asked whether I knew how to cook for myself and Jonas. I told her we’d survive on potato chips and ice cream. And beer.

The baseball coach invited Jonas and I over for dinner on Saturday night. Upon arrival, it was pretty clear they wanted us to stay the night; and at one point, the coach’s wife and another woman (more on her later) actually took Jonas downstairs with the intention of putting him to sleep (their kitchen and family room were on the top floor of their house, and all the bedrooms were on the main floor, which was pretty cool, actually, giving you the feeling that you were in a clubhouse).

I asked Mr. Goto, “Where are they going?”
Mr. Goto: “Don’t worry. Women business. Relax, please.”
“Are they trying to put him to bed.”
“Maybe. Yes.”

I told Mr. Goto that this had exactly ZERO percent chance of working, as under the most ideal of circumstances – i.e., his crib, his bed and a belly full of milk, none of which were present here – he still doesn’t exactly drift off peacefully. Sure enough, minutes later I hear Jonas wailing, and in no time, crawling up the stairs, back into the action.

Goto’s wife followed him back up, sat down, and acted as if nothing had happened. I actually liked her a lot. Unbelievably, I never caught her name, which is less of a cultural misunderstanding and more of a personal shortcoming. I once spent an entire year in Chattanooga, TN ….

 

 
 
 
 

 

DRAMATIC INTERRUPTION

Jonas just slid the door open to his room, where he was supposed to be napping, and ran straight over to me. Grinning ear to ear, he pumped his little arms up and down and danced around in circles. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so pleased with himself. The reason: after weeks of trying, he finally climbed out of his crib without help. We knew this would happen soon, and today was sort of the perfect storm for an escape. Because we stayed out and up so late (we’re talking 9:30, which is practically an all-nighter for Jonas), he slept in late, thus jeapordizing his afternoon nap. But I had to give it a shot, and after about 30 minutes of clapping and blabbering and spitting noises (not sure what that was about), I heard the sound of two feet hitting the floor. Excited footsteps followed. And Jonas soon emerged victorious. Truthfully, I’m surprised it took so long. He climbed out once a few weeks ago and hurt/scared himself a bit, and he’s been chicken to try it again. So sometimes we’ll walk in his room and he’ll have half his body, one leg and one arm hanging over the edge, and I can only imagine how long he’s been frozen in that position, considering whether to take the plunge. Today, he took the plunge.