For many years, Mame had a gnome that sat by her front door. It drove my mom nuts and one day she snuck into Mame’s house and left a book called “How to Survive a Garden Gnome Attack” with a note inside:
It became a great joke – my mom would always ask when she was getting rid of the gnome and Mame would always threaten to start a collection.
Every time we would visit Mame, Baylor insisted on being the one to notify her that we were there. First we would ring the door bell. Then Bay would knock and shout: “It Baylor!!”. Which comes out more like “Bay-yer!” and the “it” is not a typo. There’s no “s” when she says “it’s”.
After she finished alerting Mame, she would spend the few moments waiting for her to come to the door petting the gnome. Except she calls him “Tome” instead of Gnome. The pats on his little hat were followed by sweet whispers saying “Hi Tome. Good Tome”.
I brought the gnome home to our house this week and put him outside her play house. The kid doesn’t miss a thing and was thrilled that Mame’s gnome had come to live at her house.
The funny thing is a few days later, she started moving the gnome around. He’s been in the wagon, down the slide, in the wadding pool and sitting at the dinning room table. The concept cracks me up so expect to see more posts on where Tome is this week.