To Sing Frogs Chapter 10c

Luba, Amy and the Elefun game we brought for the orphanage

Luba was grunting rather than talking. Her vocalizations were growing more and more anxious so I turned to see what was going on. She held her outstretched hand toward one of the toys, opening and closing it like a butterfly drying its wings. Amy was trying to get her to talk. “Teddy Bear? Can you say Teddy Bear?” Luba just grunted and continued her clutching motions.

“The English might take a while,” I mocked.

“I know. I’m just trying to see if she talks at all. I don’t know how to say Teddy Bear in Russian.”

“Mishka.”

“How did you know that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I remember it from them talking to Katya when we gave one to her.”

“Mishka? Mishka??? Meeesh-kahh?”

Nothing. Luba became more agitated and began a series of small gasps while winding up to cry. Spoiled? In a Russian orphanage? Some things are the way they are even if there’s not an explanation; even if it doesn’t make sense.

The little girl was beautiful and her personality was as large as the pink nylon bow tied desperately to whatever hair could be gathered. I don’t know how it held but I have my suspicions. I guess that’s why someone had to invent Super Glue remover. Luba wore a darling blue corduroy pinafore. The dress and bow completely overshadowed the plain white tee shirt underneath.

Finally Amy gave me a turn to hold the child and she dove into her purse for the video camera. My wife loves to save memories in pictures and video. Some things are better left to errant recollection. That particular storage medium tends to erase all non-utopian portions of memories we wish to hold dear.

Luba now focused on another toy. Not just any toy either. She pointed, chirped and squawked—without forming any words—while gesturing to the most magnificent stuffed animal I ever saw in a Russian orphanage. The brand new two-foot-tall pink and white bunny was almost as big as she was. It resided behind the glass of the china cabinet prison appearing to all on the outside as if it might be removed at any time. At the promptings of my daughter-to-be I walked with her to the end of the cabinet and pulled on the door. It held fast. I tugged harder. The whole cabinet shook and glass rattled. On closer examination, I found the door was secured. A two-inch-wide strip of clear packing tape ran from top to bottom straddling the door and face of the cabinet. There was no way to remove the bunny without displacing the tape. The only way to remove the tape was to take the imitation wood decal with it. The bunny and the best of the other toys were all in the two outermost cupboards. Both were firmly secured. Someone had sentenced them to be there and they were not yet appointed to leave. They might never escape. It was clear that whoever imprisoned these toys behind the barrier had taken no thought for their release nor was it even a minor concern to them.

Luba didn’t care about someone else’s demanded imprisonment of the bunny. She wanted the stuffed animal and she wanted it then.

“Sorry, princess. The bunny is incarcerated. Can you say in-car-cer-a-ted?”

“Are-you-mock-ing-me?” Amy asked from behind the camera.

“Maybe a little,” I laughed back. I was joking. Luba wasn’t. Her squawks and chirps rapidly escalated to whines and cries. Within seconds they blew into a full-blown screaming temper tantrum. “Judas! What’s going on?”

“It looks like she’s used to getting her way,” Amy said while turning off the camera.

“She’s a spoiled little brat!”

“Oh, she might be a little spoiled. That won’t be difficult to remedy.”

“Yeah, well, remedy it now! Olga will think we’re skinning her alive!”

“Do you really think Olga doesn’t know Luba’s game?” Amy asked. “Who do you think spoiled her?” I handed the shrieking, kicking, fit-pitching two-year-old back to my wife.

At first Amy tried to calm her. Luba upped the ante. If I hadn’t met her demand maybe Amy would. My wife is too smart for that. She put the child down on the floor and let her scream. “Just ignore her,” she told me.

Right. Easy to say. I hadn’t seen a monster burst out of a body like that since Alien. My wife was right though. Within a few seconds Luba was back to her happy self. She was ready to play with Amy again. There were no more outbursts that day. We played for another half-hour until Olga came back with the others.

Olga looked like a car salesman honing in on someone who had just test driven a new Corvette. I know what those salesmen look like. I’ve test driven my share of Corvettes (even bought a couple). “So, do you like Luba?” she asked through the translator.

“She’s darling,” my wife responded. “We love her to death.”

“Do you like her too, John?”

            Do you know where we can find a good exorcist? The brain to mouth filter caught that one. “She’s wonderful. She’s a little princess.” A spoiled rotten little princess—

            “Good. I’m very glad. I think Luba will be very happy in your family,” Olga concluded. “I think one day she will even be your favorite child.”

Amy was right. It was Olga who raised this monster.

 

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