The Well-Traveled Backscratcher

Aaron loves his old wooden backscratcher.  It’s been through a lot, believe me, and shows it by missing one of its prongs and having marks on its handle.  Aaron keeps it by his side while he’s playing games on the computer, while we play Skip-Bo, while he watches TV, and while he reads in his bed at night.  But today the backscratcher…………….or Aaron………….went too far.

When Aaron came home from his group, I told him that his glasses that had been ordered had finally arrived and that we could go pick them up.  He was very happy about this, so he got ready while I ran a comb through my hair and off we went.  We arrived at the optometry office and went straight to the waiting room where we would pick up the glasses.  I was signing in, with Aaron standing right beside me, when suddenly with a “whoosh” he pulled his long backscratcher out of his shorts and proceeded to scratch his back.  He had pulled it out so quickly, like Zorro pulling out his sword, that I was shocked for a second.

Then I recovered my senses and said, “For crying out loud, Aaron!  What are you doing with your backscratcher?  And where did it come from?!”

He just stood there, happily scratching his back for all to see, and then said, “I brought it from home.”

Well, I obviously knew that!  And I realized, as I hurriedly finished signing in, that Aaron had put the backscratcher down his shorts, under his shirt, and partly up his back………….I guess.  He has an amazing ability to sneak out of the house with all sorts of things.  In his pockets I have found toys, rolls, silverware, money, candy, okra, cucumbers, crayons, markers…………to name a few items.  But a backscratcher?  I didn’t notice a backscratcher?  How did he sit down in the van?  I have no idea.

I ushered him to a chair, all the while with him scratching.  Scratch, scratch, scratch.  “Aaron, you should not have brought the backscratcher with you.”

And he replied, “So what am I supposed to do when my back itches?”  Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Aaron, you do what you always do………..scratch, scratch, scratch………..whatever that is…………scratch, scratch, scratch.

Not wanting to create a scene………as if we weren’t already creating a scene………..well, HE was creating the scene………….I smiled while trying to firmly tell him that the backscratcher had to go.

Just then they called our name and Aaron hopped up quickly, walking with ownership to the table where we were told to sit…………..scratch, scratch, scratch.  A couple of the employees were smiling, and one proceeded to tell me how she always keeps a backscratcher in her car.  Scratch, scratch, scratch.  I guess this should have made me feel better.  Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Aaron is rather large and more-than-rather loud, so this extra scratching activity did nothing to keep us from being noticed.  When Aaron and I go out, I always wonder what he’ll say or what he’ll do that will attract attention.  Today was right up there with his loud clapping or his funny manner of barreling through people or how he waves at security cameras or holds his hands up to stop traffic as we walk into Wal-Mart or the time he pulled a box of Cheerios out of the huge Cheerio display and I heard the other boxes hitting the floor……………ah, sweet memories.  Now I have another one to add to the list.  

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

I was very relieved when the lady retrieved his glasses quickly and very relieved that they fit without adjustment and very relieved that we were done in record time and very relieved to head for the door.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Of course, there were a couple cute young girls behind us as we exited.  Scratch, scratch, scratch.  By then I just laughed and Aaron went to the van, wearing his new glasses and scratching happily.

On the way home he saw some election signs on the side of the road.  “Mom, I keep seeing these signs that say something about judge or sheriff or president.  What is going on with that?!”

Oh Aaron – that is exactly what I’ve been asking about you and that backscratcher!

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s