An Infestation of Gnomes

I'm not really sure how it started, but suddenly, I find myself dealing with an infestation of gnomes.

I'm not complaining. It's better than the rats, because those were a) real; b) doing some sort of nightly dance number in the attic; and c) Alice's topic at Show and Tell on more than one occasion.

Honestly, once with the rats would have been bad enough. But they came up repeatedly, including one occasion when a video camera was running during a visit from the reptile man, so now we have a permanent record of Alice's wee voice making the announcement "We have RATS in our ATTIC!"

Now, the kids are making sure everyone knows about the gnomes. They tell other kids. They tell their teachers. The school principal? He even knows the gnome's name: Brixton.

Lucy, who has slightly better handwriting, composes nightly notes to Brixton and occasionally, to Brixton's more reserved wife, Blandine. She has asked what his house looks like, and where exactly in our walls it's located. She's made an assortment of gifts, including a trampoline from toothpicks and pieces of scrap paper (just as dangerous as the real thing!), a sled made from the mouth of a plastic spoon for Blandine, candles made of crayons, and even a bathtub made from Tupperware.

She and Alice have expressed great concern over the gnome's natural enemy, the troll. At one point, every wall in the house had an illustrated sign proclaiming: WORING! TORLS ON THE MOVE! (Brixton isn't picky about spelling, so why should Lucy be?)

She's even drawn up plans for a troll trap, which Brixton rejected because it called for the use of a live gnome as bait.

A curious thing has happened since Adam and I started writing replies to the troll notes on tiny pieces of yellow paper. We started believing in them ourselves. We actually made a special trip to the store to get Tic-Tacs for the baby gnome, who had a sore throat. And if I close my eyes, I can imagine Brixton moving about in the walls of the house. (I don't even have to close my ears, because the rats? They're back. And I'd rather imagine those little footsteps I hear belong to a bearded gnome in a pointy red cap.)

Truthfully, it can sometimes be a bit of a hassle to sustain something borne entirely of your child's imagination and your own. On more than one evening, Adam has leapt out of our warm bed to go write a quick Brixton note so the kids won't be disappointed.

But you know, as I think about it, this is pretty much the same thing that happens when you raise kids. They're borne of our imaginations. The hassles that are unimaginable to the uninitiated—unplanned bouts of vomiting, endless cleaning, patience-trying phases, school paperwork and jam-packed schedules—are a daily part of the job.

But the sounds our kids make, the questions they ask, and the pure-hearted willingness they have to accept and engage in the big world around them—a world full of dangerous torls, painful sore throats and improvised trampolines—I can't imagine life any other way.

--Martha Brockenbrough

(Martha Brockenbrough is taking time off. While she's gone, we're republishing some of her most popular posts.)

Comments

[Margit Crane]

I love this. Your family rocks! You are the new Erma Bombeck - in a good way.

[Rocky]

Thanks for this, we have an ant colony in our wall. I told my wife, "it could be worse, we could have gnomes!"