Supreme Squirrel
Benny is the all-time squirrelliest little boy on this particular planet. The Supreme Grand Pooh Bah of Squirrelliness. From day to day he strews his environment with squirrelisms to the vast entertainment of those around him. It all comes so thick and fast that I lose track and take these Bennybits for granted, but they are special. Here are a couple of recent ones.
No one has a greater appreciation for Capri Sun juice pouches than Sadie and Benny, their beverage of choice, you might say. Yesterday we made a flash raid on Barnes and Noble just off the island. It was an emergency; Benny had run out of Captain Underpants books. As Lydia parked the van, Benny was slurping his last slurp on a juice pouch. Getting out of the van, I saw that he still carried the empty pouch and directed, "Benny! Put that down!" imagining that he might just drop it on the pavement somewhere. He began to puff air into the pouch, puffed until it was fat, held it away from his face and said in his explaining-to-the-handicapped voice, "Oh, no, Ahno. I can't waste this chance to be kind to the plants. These palmtrees need my help." And he ran over to the nearest vegetation, turned the little straw stick on the pouch until it was against a tree trunk and gave the pouch a small squeeze. "Plants need our carbon dioxide for their food, so I'm giving this palm tree a little extra treat. After it eats my garbage air, it will give back some oxygen to help me breathe. Don't worry, Ahno, I'm doing something good."
After we got home from the store, Benny looked anxiously out the window at the pool to see if anyone was swimming. "Mom! There's people out there who need a violin concert!" He hurriedly assembled violin, chin rest, and bow, grandly announced, "I'm going out onto my stage. Sadie, you may come, too. You can dance for the people while I play music." Grateful to be included, Sadie scurried along behind him. He closed the door. In a few minutes, we heard Benny's sweet, high-pitched little voice, loudly declaim above the sounds of wind and waves, "Good afternoon, everyone. Here's something you've all been waiting for. I'm going to play you a concert and my little sister, Sadie, will dance for you."
I peeked out the window. A couple of elderly fossils sat poolside, engrossed in their beach books. Neither of them had bothered to even look up. Benny wasn't daunted. "Thank you so much for that applause," he thundered, "And now I will play Gavotte from Mignon. Sadie's gonna dance." He began to play, yelling to Sadie, "Start dancing, Sadie!" She got up and began to twirl and wave her arms. Benny sawed away on the violin and Sadie danced, on and on. At the conclusion of each piece, he thanked the audience for their non-existent applause. He requested extra applause for his little sister. He urged the audience to verbally express their pleasure, "You really liked that one, didn't you? Let's hear it. Who enjoyed it the most?" He played and played. She danced and danced. The funny thing was that after about half an hour, he did have an audience and they were applauding. Happens every afternoon.
No one has a greater appreciation for Capri Sun juice pouches than Sadie and Benny, their beverage of choice, you might say. Yesterday we made a flash raid on Barnes and Noble just off the island. It was an emergency; Benny had run out of Captain Underpants books. As Lydia parked the van, Benny was slurping his last slurp on a juice pouch. Getting out of the van, I saw that he still carried the empty pouch and directed, "Benny! Put that down!" imagining that he might just drop it on the pavement somewhere. He began to puff air into the pouch, puffed until it was fat, held it away from his face and said in his explaining-to-the-handicapped voice, "Oh, no, Ahno. I can't waste this chance to be kind to the plants. These palmtrees need my help." And he ran over to the nearest vegetation, turned the little straw stick on the pouch until it was against a tree trunk and gave the pouch a small squeeze. "Plants need our carbon dioxide for their food, so I'm giving this palm tree a little extra treat. After it eats my garbage air, it will give back some oxygen to help me breathe. Don't worry, Ahno, I'm doing something good."
After we got home from the store, Benny looked anxiously out the window at the pool to see if anyone was swimming. "Mom! There's people out there who need a violin concert!" He hurriedly assembled violin, chin rest, and bow, grandly announced, "I'm going out onto my stage. Sadie, you may come, too. You can dance for the people while I play music." Grateful to be included, Sadie scurried along behind him. He closed the door. In a few minutes, we heard Benny's sweet, high-pitched little voice, loudly declaim above the sounds of wind and waves, "Good afternoon, everyone. Here's something you've all been waiting for. I'm going to play you a concert and my little sister, Sadie, will dance for you."
I peeked out the window. A couple of elderly fossils sat poolside, engrossed in their beach books. Neither of them had bothered to even look up. Benny wasn't daunted. "Thank you so much for that applause," he thundered, "And now I will play Gavotte from Mignon. Sadie's gonna dance." He began to play, yelling to Sadie, "Start dancing, Sadie!" She got up and began to twirl and wave her arms. Benny sawed away on the violin and Sadie danced, on and on. At the conclusion of each piece, he thanked the audience for their non-existent applause. He requested extra applause for his little sister. He urged the audience to verbally express their pleasure, "You really liked that one, didn't you? Let's hear it. Who enjoyed it the most?" He played and played. She danced and danced. The funny thing was that after about half an hour, he did have an audience and they were applauding. Happens every afternoon.
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