Special Child
Grandson
by
William James Johnson
People have stopped asking me about him. Can't understand why. Maybe it's because once they get me started, I don't know when to quit. It's not my fault. How did I know I was going to get so lucky? This kid has got to be the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. If I had known having a grandchild was so much fun, I would have had him first.
Holding this seven and a half pounds of wonder was pure joy.
Arriving in this world the same way as that famous Roman, ensured him of a perfectly formed head. No wrinkly old man waiting for a shot of baby fat here. The kid was gorgeous. His deep blue eyes sparkled with recognition as we touched cheeks for the first time. I've read about instant bonding, but this experience was unreal. I was holding the future in my arms. This was my grandson. I love the sound of that...my grandson. They called him Darcy, and the name suited him; a unique name for a unique child.
You're probably thinking this is the typical bragging of a doting grandfather who arm wrestles you to the ground and forces a slew of instamatic photos on you. I'm not that way. Honestly. Darcy is a special little boy. I ought to know. I began babysitting him when he was three months old, until he was four and a half, and left to begin playschool. I miss him so much, I just had to write about him.
As a professional artist who works at home, I was enthralled observing this young child's developing imagination. When he asked me at eighteen months if he could paint with me, I agreed, expecting to see expensive watercolours turn into mud at the hands of an infant. What a shock. This marvelous little boy was producing sparkling abstracts of clear, transparent colour. I couldn't believe it. By the time he was four, he had done over 100 paintings. The local newspaper published a story about his pictures, and some of my collectors began purchasing Darcy's art.
The publication of his story brought some adult artists to ask if I would let Darcy exhibit in one of their shows. I consulted with my grandson. "They want to show some of your paintings. Is that okay?"
"Maybe I should do a new painting for their show."
"That would be nice. What would you like to paint?"
"I think I'll do a rainbow Grampa.."
We went into the studio, and Darcy climbed onto my work table where he always painted. He selected a stiff watercolour card and began to create. Saturating his brush with primary colours, he unloaded the pigment in three wet pools.
"That's not a rainbow," I said.
The child picked up a piece of stiff mat board, and holding it on its edge, dragged it in a graceful arc across the wet colour.
"Now it's a rainbow," he said, smiling at the beautiful painting he had just created..
Another day, he asked me to watch a new painting technique he had discovered.
"Take a sheet of paper towel Grampa and squeeze it into a ball. Then you put the ball into water and get it real wet. Shake off some of the water and roll the paper ball into different watercolours. Try lots of colours."
"That looks like a mess to me."
"I'm not done yet. When you finish rolling it, open the ball carefully, and look how beautiful the colour is. Now you let it dry, and you've got a pretty painting." He was right. It was a pretty painting, but the most important thing was that he had made the discovery himself.
He was always inventing things. I had given him five tiny rubber balls, and he asked me to play his new game which he called, "Double Trouble".
"Its fun to play Grampa. You sit at the bottom of the basement stairs, and I sit at the top, and when you are ready, I'll throw the balls all at once...oh I forgot to tell you, you have to catch them without using your hands." With that he let fly with all five balls, bouncing off the stairs and walls,striking my arms and chest.
"This is ridiculous. I never caught one."
"I know. That's why I call the game Double Trouble."
One day he was doing Granny a favour, cleaning out her icing bowl.
"Do you want me to get a spatula to clean out the bottom of the bowl?"
"Never mind Grampa. I'll use my tongueula."
Darcy is smart because he always asks questions. If I didn't know the answer he would say, "Let's look it up in the encyclopedia." He wanted to know about the meaning of "Exoskeleton". That was the time he said, "Wouldn't it be funny if people didn't have a skeleton at all. Everyone would be flat."
Our fun times ended when Darcy began play school. I called him on the phone and he said, "Could you please hangup Grampa. I'm concentrating on my Work and Do Book."
I called back later. "So how are things now?"
"Things are back to normal."
"Normal...what does that mean, normal?"
"It means things are not unusual."
I know one thing for sure. This kid is not normal.
View the original art and biography of William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com
by
William James Johnson
People have stopped asking me about him. Can't understand why. Maybe it's because once they get me started, I don't know when to quit. It's not my fault. How did I know I was going to get so lucky? This kid has got to be the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. If I had known having a grandchild was so much fun, I would have had him first.
Holding this seven and a half pounds of wonder was pure joy.
Arriving in this world the same way as that famous Roman, ensured him of a perfectly formed head. No wrinkly old man waiting for a shot of baby fat here. The kid was gorgeous. His deep blue eyes sparkled with recognition as we touched cheeks for the first time. I've read about instant bonding, but this experience was unreal. I was holding the future in my arms. This was my grandson. I love the sound of that...my grandson. They called him Darcy, and the name suited him; a unique name for a unique child.
You're probably thinking this is the typical bragging of a doting grandfather who arm wrestles you to the ground and forces a slew of instamatic photos on you. I'm not that way. Honestly. Darcy is a special little boy. I ought to know. I began babysitting him when he was three months old, until he was four and a half, and left to begin playschool. I miss him so much, I just had to write about him.
As a professional artist who works at home, I was enthralled observing this young child's developing imagination. When he asked me at eighteen months if he could paint with me, I agreed, expecting to see expensive watercolours turn into mud at the hands of an infant. What a shock. This marvelous little boy was producing sparkling abstracts of clear, transparent colour. I couldn't believe it. By the time he was four, he had done over 100 paintings. The local newspaper published a story about his pictures, and some of my collectors began purchasing Darcy's art.
The publication of his story brought some adult artists to ask if I would let Darcy exhibit in one of their shows. I consulted with my grandson. "They want to show some of your paintings. Is that okay?"
"Maybe I should do a new painting for their show."
"That would be nice. What would you like to paint?"
"I think I'll do a rainbow Grampa.."
We went into the studio, and Darcy climbed onto my work table where he always painted. He selected a stiff watercolour card and began to create. Saturating his brush with primary colours, he unloaded the pigment in three wet pools.
"That's not a rainbow," I said.
The child picked up a piece of stiff mat board, and holding it on its edge, dragged it in a graceful arc across the wet colour.
"Now it's a rainbow," he said, smiling at the beautiful painting he had just created..
Another day, he asked me to watch a new painting technique he had discovered.
"Take a sheet of paper towel Grampa and squeeze it into a ball. Then you put the ball into water and get it real wet. Shake off some of the water and roll the paper ball into different watercolours. Try lots of colours."
"That looks like a mess to me."
"I'm not done yet. When you finish rolling it, open the ball carefully, and look how beautiful the colour is. Now you let it dry, and you've got a pretty painting." He was right. It was a pretty painting, but the most important thing was that he had made the discovery himself.
He was always inventing things. I had given him five tiny rubber balls, and he asked me to play his new game which he called, "Double Trouble".
"Its fun to play Grampa. You sit at the bottom of the basement stairs, and I sit at the top, and when you are ready, I'll throw the balls all at once...oh I forgot to tell you, you have to catch them without using your hands." With that he let fly with all five balls, bouncing off the stairs and walls,striking my arms and chest.
"This is ridiculous. I never caught one."
"I know. That's why I call the game Double Trouble."
One day he was doing Granny a favour, cleaning out her icing bowl.
"Do you want me to get a spatula to clean out the bottom of the bowl?"
"Never mind Grampa. I'll use my tongueula."
Darcy is smart because he always asks questions. If I didn't know the answer he would say, "Let's look it up in the encyclopedia." He wanted to know about the meaning of "Exoskeleton". That was the time he said, "Wouldn't it be funny if people didn't have a skeleton at all. Everyone would be flat."
Our fun times ended when Darcy began play school. I called him on the phone and he said, "Could you please hangup Grampa. I'm concentrating on my Work and Do Book."
I called back later. "So how are things now?"
"Things are back to normal."
"Normal...what does that mean, normal?"
"It means things are not unusual."
I know one thing for sure. This kid is not normal.
View the original art and biography of William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com
posted by William Johnson | 12:52 p.m.
1 Comments:
Sounds like Darcy is as lucky to have you as a grandpa as you are to have him as a grandson.
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