Week 1

Dearest Grandmama,

Mother says we can’t see each other because we’re in lockdown. This week hasn’t been so bad. Mother has been sleeping in which has given me full reign of the living room by 8 a.m. She wasn’t pleased when she tumbled down the stairs after stepping on my LEGO Batman car. She has since instituted a “new rule to end this madness.” She made the new rule as she was placing an empty bottle of wine in the recycling bin, muttering something about a raging migraine. The rule: I must not leave my LEGO on the floor.

Honestly, Grandmama, I guffawed at the thought. How does one play with LEGO, if not with the blocks and bits strewn across the floor? They are obviously designed to be played on the floor. The wheels on the car don’t roll well on other surfaces. She really is a special woman, that Mother. As we both know, her inability to be consistent with anything, especially holding back on the vino, will mean she will forget about this rule in a few days, and it’s back to the stay-at-home fun I enjoy. I hope you’re enjoying lockdown with Grandfather.

I think I’ll ask Mother if she’ll make macaroni and cheese for my lunch this week.

Until we meet again,
Buddy

Week 2

Dearest Grandmama,

How are you? I enjoyed our Zoom happy hour the other day. It wasn’t the same. Are hugs illegal now? This lockup is confusing.

Mother took over my schooling duties. She’s very different from Mrs. Applecheeks, my kindergarten teacher. Mother frowns a lot and walks away from the kitchen table where I work. Poor Mother, she attempted a craft project involving salt dough and food coloring yesterday. You would be correct if you predicted that it did not go well. You don’t need Nostradamus to portend a disaster when dye and clay are involved with Mother.

She has repeatedly mentioned how she’s “not crafty” and “didn’t sign up for this shit” When we were done making planets with food coloring, as you know how I want to be an astronaut, I saw her huddled over the carpet crying as she tried to scrub the red food coloring out of her white and grey carpet. She said something about a “damn crime scene.” I do wish she’d refrain from such foul language.

I hear Mother in the kitchen opening a bottle of wine. I think I’ll ask her for some macaroni and cheese. It has been ages since she’s made it.

Until we meet again,
Buddy

Week 3

Dearest Grandmama,

It’s been so many weeks since I’ve enjoyed your embrace. When this dreadful quarantine ends, I know mother will eagerly bring me to your home while she goes gallivanting. It’s likely she will return to our home where she will sit alone in our living room watching television programming she has deemed “inappropriate for a six-year-old, thank you very much.”

Grandmama, I look forward to our reunion. I know when I’m with you, I’ll finally be able to enjoy macaroni and cheese. Since the first week of lockup, I have requested my most favoritest lunch and dinner and snack. Is it too much to ask for Mother to make macaroni and cheese? I overheard her tell Father that she “wasn’t a fucking short-order cook.” I let the “f” word slide.

It’s obvious Mother is struggling. You should see the empty bottles in the recycling bin. She’s moved onto “booze” as she calls it. Regardless, Mother continues to hold firm despite my repeated demands for macaroni and cheese. I have tried several strategies including sticking out my bottom lip and widening my eyes, yet this has yielded nothing but fruits and vegetables. I know when we meet again you’ll make my favorite macaroni and cheese without requiring a side dish of vegetables.

Until we meet again,
Buddy

Week 4

Dearest Grandmama,

I write because, Grandmama, times are tough here in quarantine. Firstly, Mother has officially become my kindergarten teacher. She is much grumpier than Mrs. Applecheeks. When Mother begins our lessons, I love to remind her how Mrs. Applecheeks taught us math. Mother always smiles when I tell her about how “Mrs. Applecheeks doesn’t do math this way” and “Mrs. Applecheecks wants us to write the letters’ this way.

You’re doing it wrong.” Grandmama, she might have a master’s degree in writing, but she really struggles to write in print, which I find absolutely unacceptable and have of course told her so. A young boy, such as myself, must make sure she understands the right way to teach kindergarten.

Yesterday, when I was out in the yard with Max, I decided it was time to plot my escape. I was practicing jumping jacks and lifting weights with Father when I realized I wouldn’t stand for one more day of Mother’s tyrannical reign: no macaroni and cheese, limited numbers of snacks, a firm hold on “screen time.” Grandmama, I’m living in a nightmare. Max and I decided we needed a tunnel. We started digging under the swing set. I expect it will take us approximately two weeks to get under the fence.

Please have the macaroni and cheese ready.

Until we meet again,
Buddy

Week 5

Dearest Grandmother,

I’m pleased to report that the Warden Mother has finally relented on what was once a hard line for screen time. Warden has been getting into “the sauce” as I heard Father referring to it, earlier and earlier. Yesterday, it was after lunch, and she was mixing herself a margarita. There was so much joy in her eyes. I’m fairly certain she forgets how long I’ve been on the iPad. Too often I give myself away with frustrated whines when I lose a game or the battery dies.

Her negligence with screen time has allowed me to do some searches on YouTube Kids for tunnel building, but the filters are extremely limiting, and I’ve yet to learn my multiplication tables to get to the settings. Surely, Max and I will figure out a way to get to the other side of the fence.

I look forward to hugs, tickles, and macaroni and cheese.

Sincerely,
Buddy

Week 6

Dearest Grandmama,

I regret to inform you that my macaroni and cheese requests have still been denied. Mother has said, “We aren’t carb-loading. We need vegetables.” She also mentioned coming out of quarantine “hotter than ever.” We’ve been eating a lot of vegetables and fish. I noticed Father slumped into his chair when Warden Mother put our dinner of steamed rice, broccoli, and salmon on the table last night.

The tunnel is coming along quite nicely. Warden Mother left out her gardening tools (she gardens now). You should have seen her in that floppy hat and gloves. When I asked her about the hat, which arrived on our doorstep with so many other packages, she said something about “sun spots” and “looking like an old hag.” Whatever that means. I took her trowel and hid it under the slide of the swing set. Warden Mother keeps looking for it. She asked Father about it, and he said something about “too much wine” and shook his head. We can all agree her wine consumption is quite excessive.

I hope this ends soon, Grandmama.

Until we meet again,
Buddy

Week 7

Dearest Grandmama,

Something strange is afoot. Mother has abruptly stopped with the wine and “the sauce.” She and Father have been whispering. I did hear Mother say something about “being late” but I don’t know for what since we can’t go anywhere. I then heard Father say something about “here we go again.” Mother laughed and then looked over at me. Perhaps macaroni and cheese is in my future.

Until we meet again,
Buddy