When my youngest brother, Kelly, was about two years old, my other brother had a great time playing with him. “When he starts to grows up,” Timmy said to my dad, “can’t you just take a hammer and pound him down little again?” When I remember jagged paper hearts found hidden in my dresser drawers or handmade greeting cards where “day” is falling off the paper (because who knew “birthday” was such a long word?), I feel that way, too.
I guess that’s why grandkids are so special. It’s our chance to do it again.
Last weekend I babysat for about six hours. Just the right time to love them, then give them back. Kind of like checking in a good library book.
The Mouse is getting more verbal. Well, not in words, but his squeals are louder and more demanding, especially when he wants the ball everyone is throwing out of his reach. See the drumstick; it’s almost like he is orchestrating my whole life. (But I have to admit I love it when he comes up to me and taps me on the thigh over and over until he gets my attention.)
After playing, he fell asleep in my arms, and I had the privilege of holding him while he napped, kissing those blond curls. The other two grandchildren ran into the room. “Hi, Grandma,” they whispered.
“You guys are like angels,” I said, praising their efforts to not wake the baby.
“Not really,” admitted the Bug. “We’re more like Angel fans.”
No, I thought, I’m more like the fan of three little angels.
Related posts:
Print This Post
I sure miss those days
My grandson will be 18 this October
He is such a doll! Those curls and those blue eyes would make anybody melt — especially Grandma Penny!
It’s not easy being green.
How sweet is that?