Meemaw Mail
My daughter made her Meemaw a Valentine's Day card on Saturday. I took her to an art festival (or festibul, if you prefer), and she spotted the craft table for kids immediately. Its glitter and glue called to her like a siren. She descended upon the table before I could steer her towards . . . well, anything but that. A teenaged volunteer came over to help her decorate a card. "Who is the card for?" she asked.
"It's for my Meemaw," responded my daughter.
A few minutes later, a pink glitter greeting card was tucked inside my purse. The card was festooned with multiple foam stickers and the word MEEMAW, except that one E was backwards and the second A was actually an inverted V (A's were in short supply, it turns out.) I stamped and addressed the envelope when we got home. She signed the card, and, much to my amazement, wrote her own name with all eight letters in precisely the correct order. She usually needs a bit of prodding to remember which letter appears where. And then argues with me about it because, you know, I wouldn't know how my own child's name is spelled or anything.
I thought we were all set as far as Meemaws and Valentine's Day goes, until the kid found some old V-Day cards on a shelf next to the computer. She was overcome with the need to send Meemaw another Valentine's greeting. Only this time, she insisted on putting it in the "enbelope" herself. And addressing it herself. Like so:
I guess Meemaws are sort of like Santa Claus when it comes to sending them mail. A name or even a sketch will do just fine. I picture a couple of postal employees trying to figure out what to do with it.
Postal Employee #1 (waving envelope in the air): Steve, where does this go?
Postal Employee #2: Oh, that goes to Meemaw in Oklahoma. You didn't recognize her?
Postal Employee #1: No. It's pretty sad about her not having a torso and all, though.
Postal Employee #2: No kidding.
"It's for my Meemaw," responded my daughter.
The volunteer pulled out a few sheets of small, foam sticky letters. Then I saw her hesitate. I suspected I knew what the problem was.
"You don't know how to spell Meemaw?" She shook her head. I bailed her out.
A few minutes later, a pink glitter greeting card was tucked inside my purse. The card was festooned with multiple foam stickers and the word MEEMAW, except that one E was backwards and the second A was actually an inverted V (A's were in short supply, it turns out.) I stamped and addressed the envelope when we got home. She signed the card, and, much to my amazement, wrote her own name with all eight letters in precisely the correct order. She usually needs a bit of prodding to remember which letter appears where. And then argues with me about it because, you know, I wouldn't know how my own child's name is spelled or anything.
I thought we were all set as far as Meemaws and Valentine's Day goes, until the kid found some old V-Day cards on a shelf next to the computer. She was overcome with the need to send Meemaw another Valentine's greeting. Only this time, she insisted on putting it in the "enbelope" herself. And addressing it herself. Like so:
She handed me the enbelope after sealing it, and instructed me to pop it into the mail for her. No stamp, no address. Nothing but a sketch of my mother.
I guess Meemaws are sort of like Santa Claus when it comes to sending them mail. A name or even a sketch will do just fine. I picture a couple of postal employees trying to figure out what to do with it.
Postal Employee #1 (waving envelope in the air): Steve, where does this go?
Postal Employee #2: Oh, that goes to Meemaw in Oklahoma. You didn't recognize her?
Postal Employee #1: No. It's pretty sad about her not having a torso and all, though.
Postal Employee #2: No kidding.
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