THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, April 5, 1996 TAG: 9604040143
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Over Easy
SOURCE: Jo-Ann Clegg
LENGTH: Medium: 94 lines
At 11 o'clock last Saturday morning, Alexander William Clegg, age 16 months and 20 days, stormed the lobby of Richmond's grand old Jefferson Hotel.
By 11:15 the hotel staff had passed the word that all hands should beware of a 2-foot-something, black-haired tornado carrying a stuffed donkey named Eeyore and followed by a 5-foot-something gray-haired grandmother toting a diaper bag.
That message was initially put out by the doorman who had made a nice save when Alexander tried to give Eeyore a bath in the hotel fountain.
It was repeated first by the bell captain who discovered his brass luggage cart being propelled at break-neck speed across the main lobby and then by a member of the executive staff who found the tornado and his donkey making their way down a private staircase three fire doors removed from the main lobby.
``We have the child in custody, but we can't seem to find the grandmother,'' I overheard the nice lady from the executive suite telling the front desk manager as I made my way through the last set of doors and scooped up the giggling toddler and the ever-patient donkey he was dragging behind him.
By the time Eeyore, Alex, his parents and grandparents made their way to the fifth-floor room where Andy and Kristin would be spending the night, two housekeepers, the gift shop manager and a hotel engineer had bid him good morning.
By name.
The occasion was a weekend get-away for his parents. That's ``get-away'' as in ``getting-away-from-Alex.''
Last summer Bill and I had given Andy and Kristin a gift certificate for a weekend at the Jefferson for their wedding anniversary. Part of the deal was 24 hours of baby-sitting in Virginia Beach for Alex.
At the time we made the offer, he was a 9-month-old who could be calmed with a bottle of milk, was not yet walking and had not yet discovered the joys of creating total chaos.
As Bill and I quickly discovered, things change in seven months.
By the time we spent 20 minutes in Andy and Kristin's room, Alex had managed to call room service twice, maintenance once and housekeeping so many times that a grandmotherly housekeeper had been assigned to duty just outside their room.
She gave up her post only when assured that we had transferred his safety seat from his dad's sport utility vehicle to our conservative sedan, corralled him and Eeyore, strapped them both in and were departing Richmond for Virginia Beach.
Several Jefferson staffers indicated they'd like to be going with us, but preferably not in the same vehicle.
With Alex came the necessities for the weekend: a stroller; a diaper bag full of potions, lotions and Pampers; and a mid-size suitcase containing three changes of clothes, two sleepers, 14 assorted toys and another dozen Pampers - just in case.
For the next 24 hours we talked to him, sang to him, changed his diaper, fed him, and changed him again - and again, and again.
We also played with him, read to him, watched cartoons with him, pulled him up out of the mud and pulled him down off the kitchen counter.
Mostly we diverted him. We diverted him from my computer moments after he renamed three major works in process and sent them to some file I haven't been able to find yet.
We also diverted him from the inside of the china cabinet, the inside of the bookcase and the inside of the fireplace.
After that last diversion, which happened at about 8 on Saturday evening, we ignored his indignant screams and introduced him to the inside of the bathtub. Then we patted him dry, zipped him into his sleeper, cuddled him until he dropped off to sleep (that took approximately 27 seconds) and put him down for the night.
Ten hours and 58 minutes later he woke up again and hit the ground running.
At noon on Sunday we repacked his suitcase and diaper bag, pulled Eeyore out of the fireplace ashes, loaded them both into the car and drove him back to Richmond.
``Good to have you back, Alex,'' said the nice lady from the executive offices as he and Eeyore dashed past her. There's a lot to be said for the staff of a first-rate hotel, she actually sounded like she meant it.
A few minutes later Andy and Kristin appeared, looking relaxed and happy. Bill and I, looking old and exhausted, handed Alex over to them. They left to head home to Arlington while we headed in the opposite direction to Virginia Beach.
When last seen, the staff at the Jefferson had the collective look of those from whom a very heavy burden had been lifted.
``You know,'' Bill said as he rubbed his aching back, ``there's something to be said for becoming a grandparent when you're in your 30s.''
I didn't answer. I was half asleep, day-dreaming of the days when spending a weekend with Alexander would involve a little more conversation and a lot less physical labor. by CNB