Page 113 of The Woman in the Garage

“That thing can’t possibly still work.” It had been old when she’d inherited it from Phil.

“Oh, it still works. And the kids have really taken to that damn song it sings. Did you know that if you hit the buttonunder the fish over and over, it makes it sing the song faster and faster until it sounds like chipmunks? Because I now do.”

“That why you shooed ‘em outside?”

“It was that or murder the fish,” she said, letting out a little laugh.

“What are you making?” I asked.

“Just some simple—“

“Hello, hello!” my mom’s voice called from the front of the house.

“G-ma!” our son declared, shooting out of his chair, his model car forgotten.

By the time they came into the kitchen, my mom had her arm around our son’s shoulders.

“Oh, no. I’m too late,” she said, looking over at us.

“Too late for what?” I asked.

“I was going to take the kids out to eat. Give you two some time off.”

“Not too late. Not too late at all,” Dasha said, flicking the flame off under the pot she’d been stirring.

To that, my mom gave her a smile and a head nod. “I remember those days. What do you say to me taking them out to eat and then over to my place for a sleepover?”

“I say you’re an angel among us and just give me five minutes to pack their bags,” Dasha said, already heading upstairs to collect the kids’ pajamas, toothbrushes, and special toys.

“Why don’t you go tell your brothers and sisters,” my mom said, rustling my son’s hair. He rushed out to do just that, and a chorus of squeals could be heard through the walls. “Five kids is a lot,” she said, nodding with the memory of raising so many small kids herself. “But you know what’s better? Six.”

“Your answer to us needing a little break from five kids is to add another on top of them all?”

“Six is just such a nice, even number.”

“Speaking of six children, shouldn’t you be pestering the other five you have about making more grandbabies?”

“Well, today is your day, not theirs,” she said with a light in her eyes that said she wasn’t even joking.

“Is there some sort of competition between you and Aunt Adrian over who has the most grandchildren or something?” I asked.

“Of course not. Though, I do think I would be winning…”

“Okay. We’ve got toothbrushes, pajamas, toys, favorite books, and even a couple of tablets if you need a break,” Dasha said, making her way back into the kitchen with five of the backpacks that my mother had bought each of the kids solely for the purpose of sleepovers at her house.

“You are a doll,” my mom told her, taking all the backpacks just as the kids started rushing toward the back door. “Now, stick that sauce in the fridge, order in something, and have a nice, quiet night alone. Just the two of you. Privately.”

With that, any possible future conversation was drowned out by the kids and their little demands of what to get for dinner, what to play when they got to her house, how late she was going to let them stay up.

“She really is incredible with them,” Dasha said as she watched my mom lead all the kids back out the same way she’d come in just moments before.

“She is,” I agreed. I mean, as soon as my brothers started to settle down, she’d sold her trusty sedan and replaced it with a minivan that was big enough to seat seven passengers—aside from herself. More than enough, so far, to pack any one set of grandchildren inside.

She also had multiples of each different car seat and booster to make sure everyone was safe while in her care. And that wasn’t even to mention that she’d bought little plastic craft containers with compartments that she filled with snacks for carrides or park trips. Or that she’d converted her entire basement into a child’s wonderland. Or had taken CPR, first aid, and child development classes.

She was Super Grandma. And we were beyond blessed to have her assistance when we occasionally needed an extra set of hands. Or a break.

“That’s gotta cool before we can stick it in the fridge,” I said, giving the sauce a stir. Hey, we had half of dinner ready for the next day. That was a win. “What do you want to order?”

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