Catching a Wild Squirrel

Ever tried to catch a squirrel? I did when I was in third grade. We were at Nana’s house and found an old bird cage in the attic. Now, what could be better than making a trail of nuts leading to the door of the cage? Watching from the front steps, we waited for a squirrel to fall for our trap. It didn’t take long for one to pounce its way – peanut by peanut – to the cage door. After each swallow, she would jerk her head up and look left and right. Satisfied that nothing was going to get her, she continued her way right into that rusty white bird cage.

None of us expected the door to slam shut the way it did. I guess it was the weight of a squirrel occupying a cage meant for a tender bird. BAM! Our squirrel was suddenly in prison – and she didn't know what had happened or what to do. She began to screech, jump and throw herself against the curved walls of that cage. We were terrified and screamed for Nana.

As we clung to each other from the safety of the door to the house, Nana calmly walked up to the cage, said something soothing to the squirrel and lifted the hatch door. Our experimental pet bolted out as if shot by a cannon.

Those moments where the terrified squirrel screamed and thrashed inside the attic bird cage have remained etched in my mind to this day.

What does this have to do with parenting? It reminds me of the day I tried to teach my kindergartner how to swallow a pill.

The medicine she needed for her ear infection only came in a pill that had to be swallowed. We had been working on the chew-able ones but never the swallowing kind. I got her pill ready along with a small glass of water and set them on the kitchen counter, then called her over to me. Casually, I explained that because her ear infection was so bad, the medicine that the doctor wanted her to take for it came in a special pill for her to swallow. Mommie would show her how it’s done and she could go right back to coloring.

No sooner had I delivered what I believed to be one of my more successful intros than she turned into that caged squirrel at Nana’s house. Only this time she was banging into the kitchen cabinets and writhing on the floor howling with anticipatory fear. No amount of coaxing could get her to stand up, much less lift her chin from the place on her chest where she had embedded it.
I am not exaggerating when I say that it took me 90 minutes of gentle talking, soothing sentence-prayers and patience while sitting on the kitchen floor near her to calm her. Finally, she was able to “de-squirrel” herself and listen again. She took a deep breath and we stood up. I told her what to do and she bravely followed each step. One small gulp and the pill had entered her system, ready to do its work.

“Well that’s easy!!!” my accomplished girl proudly declared. After a congratulatory hug, she was off to finish coloring, but we both knew a significant step had been reached on her journey toward growing up.'

That girl is now a young wife with more to celebrate than swallowing a small pill, but I treasure each and every detail that leads up to the gifted woman and friend she has become.