The Skype calls and I race to turn off
radio 4 and click on the green icon to accept the call. Then there in the centre of the screen
appears your face looking perplexed. You
stare with that piercing intensity only the under twos can muster. Not old enough to pretend sociability or even
feign interest. I am pulling out all the
stops on my end. Beaming, smiles, hands
clapping, launching into nursery rhythm’s we’ve shared on visits months
ago. You inspect me coldly, gosh it’s a
tough audience tonight! Then, something
in my repertoire clicks and a huge smile emerges. He has recognized his granny. She of the crazy attention seeking over
performance is familiar once more. He
babbles, at times he leans in as if to kiss the screen, he waves and
claps. It as if the entire audience of a
packed Albert Hall is in rapturous applause and I feel a deep sense of
satisfaction. It was a tough show but
the seasoned performer knows how to pull off magic. The Skype call finishes and I feel the
remains of the adrenaline surge through my body as the screen darkens. I am left, the connection broken, but
triumphant. Another spider link
established between that precious soul and mine. For Charlie, I’d even master headstands if it
brought forth those life giving smiles.
What is this granny hood madness?
