December 28, 2012 - 8:28 pm

The 11th Hour

They’ve gone. All six of them. Gone. Six grandchildren, as well as their parents, have left and are returning to their everyday lives.

Ceirnan with her new quilt

My house is quiet, and the cats are beginning to come out of hiding.  Just a few short hours ago, it was noisy: Children were laughing, running, pushing, whining, crying and giggling. One moment all was well, the next moment, scrapping and fussing. Just like children everywhere.

This past week, we celebrated Christmas together. All my children were here with their children. That doesn’t always happen, because we are spread out. One family in Delaware, one in Illinois and one in Kansas City.

If you read my last blog, you will recall I had four days to accomplish quite a lot in order for each of my grandchildren to get a quilt for Christmas. The gift exchange has taken place, and I was successful.

Well, sort of.

I still have to put the binding on Brooke’s quilt, but I gave it to her anyway.

I finished putting the binding on Abby’s quilt at 2 a.m. My son took this picture of me and said, “I’m

Abby snuggled under her quilt

going to call this picture Waiting Until the Last Dog is Dead.” (It used to be his style to wait until the very last minute to do anything! My constant comment to his last-minute rush was always, “Well, if you didn’t wait until the last dog was dead to … ”) I don’t know about you, but I kind of cringe when my children turn my words back on me.

Jackson and his daddy with his quilt

I was pleasantly surprised at the responses from the children when they opened the packages that held their quilts. They either wrapped the quilts around them or spread them out and snuggled under them. I thought they would give the quilts a quick once-over and move on to the toys. Instead, they couldn’t wait to show their quilts off.

This morning, Abby climbed into bed with her mom and dad and Brooke. I heard her talking to her mom. She said, “I wish I had a quilt like that one that’s hanging on the wall for my dolls. Maybe we could call Gram right before my birthday and tell her she could make quilts for me and Brooke so we could have them for our dolls.”

Ah, yes, I’ve turned at least one of those children into a quilt lover. That’s what I call success!


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