The Journey Of A Worm

The stories of my grandchildren are just too precious not to share, especially when they provide a window into the future. Here’s a good story.

My almost 4-year-old grandson, Thomas loves worms. During a recent visit to our lake house at Lake Lakengren just outside of Eaton, Thomas found a worm. He asked me for a bowl and next thing I knew, he was back in the kitchen with a plastic cereal bowl full of grass, dirt, and tiny sticks. Sitting on top of the nest-like concoction was a tiny white worm. Probably, it was more like a grub, but I have no willingness to research different types of worms to report an accurate species. In my book, worms are slimy and far too squishy to want in your kitchen. As the worm explored Thomas’ little pudgy fingers, I just had to look away. I prefer worms on a rainy afternoon inching along a wet sidewalk.

I lovingly instructed Thomas to take the worm outside, but I could tell his relationship with the little critter was growing despite the increase in activity surrounding him. My son and his wife were busy packing the car for their return trip home. They repeatedly roamed the house and outside deck collecting wet bathing suits, finding the mates of little sandals, packing snacks, and making sure their 4 little children were accounted for. Thomas continued to stand there, quite protective of his little pet. My daughter in law said in passing, “Thomas, you need to leave the worm here.” Next walk-by she said, “Thomas, that grub is not coming in my car.” Thomas remained still, unfazed by his mom’s instruction. Finally, as the kids all stood outside the car waiting to be strapped in their NASA-worthy car seats, Thomas didn’t move. He and the worm were now in stealth mode.

Then, I saw Thomas hop up into the car and situate himself in his car seat, unfazed. “Thomas,” his mom said, “Did you bring that worm into the car?”

“I did not.” He said, catching my eyes once again without a blink. I recognized that look. It’s the same look I saw many times when Thomas’ dad was almost 4.

I was about 1000% sure the worm and plastic bowl and sticks and grass were in the car, but as I kissed Thomas goodbye and perused his surroundings, the bowl and the worm were nowhere in sight. As they drove away, I just had to chuckle. I then texted my daughter in law and requested a photo of Thomas and the plastic cereal bowl as I was certain they were together. Sure enough, the worm made it home along with the wet bathing suits and coolers of snacks.

The next day, I went to my son’s home to drop off the forgotten items left at our lake house. And there was Thomas, still with the bowl and the worm stashed outside his house beneath a bush. He acted quite unfazed by the calculated transport of the forbidden worm.

So, here we are. As a grandparent, I can kind of see to the future. I’ve lived the past with my son, and now have the gift of wisdom. Paybacks are sure to happen. Fast forward 10 years, I’m sure the worm situation will be replaced by something else. Worms morph into other things, you know (at least that’s what my worm-uninformed mind tells me). The good news for me is that as long as it’s not in my kitchen, the worm will have meaning. And Thomas will be worth it all, just like his dad.