The rewards of having grandchildren are beyond counting. Just yesterday, I spent the morning with my six (“almost seven, Grammy”) granddaughter who never ceases to amaze me.
The day started out great. I went into town and picked her up at 7:30 am and we headed for the country where an all-to-quiet nature awaited the arrival of a little screaming voice. The trip itself was consumed by conversation of what she wants for her ‘almost seven’ birthday present. Even as I was strapping her securely into her car seat she was giving me subtle hints like “I want one of those things that comes with a thing and you make things with it …I want one of those for sure Grammy” and, “Did you know they have this sorta pink stuff that’s kinda like sand when you start but then you put water on it and it like dries and turns hard or something… I want one of those too.” pause… “And don’t forget about that doll that I told you about before… oh, I almost forgot, they have this really cool swimming pool for dolls and I want that too.” Finally, she’s strapped in and we went on our way!
Halfway through the ride we came to a mutual agreement that when we got to Grammy’s house we would make a list. Wow! My head was spinning trying to remember phrases like pink goopy stuff and kinda sorta sandy!
As the day progressed, we forgot about the list. We had more important things to do on Grammy Day. It had been a while since we’d spent quality time together. I pushed her on the swing in the back yard where she pleaded to play Kick the Grammy (a game from her not so forceful youth that I was hoping she’d forgotten ), we picked black raspberries (I picked, she stood with her hand out) and we strolled through Grammy’s woods where she told me “Grampa should get out here and mow this grass.”
As a grand finale she tied the door to my office shut when I went in to check my email. When she was finished, she innocently sat outside and asked “Grammy, can you come out here for a minute?” Getting out was no easy task. She had tied her jump-rope to the door knob, wrapped it around a nearby shelf and securely knotted it. I was impressed among other emotions with her knotting skills but thank God she doesn’t yet understand the meaning of a taut rope! I had just enough play in it to get my hand through the opening and get myself out.
Today I can’t help but laugh at her antics. (Except for the one where she put the broom across the living room doorway and then yelled for me to come quick!)
Like I said… Ya Gotta Love Em! And yes, I do.