Live from Saturday Night it's... ME!
Yeah, I'm not normally a Saturday night blogger, but we were in my hometown all day and that left my two very good dogs home alone in the house for 12 hours. Thankfully, I came home to no messes, just some very eager-to-go-out Labs. Then they both ate and went out again. I'm going to hang out with them for a while so that I don't wake up to S.O.T.F. As in Sh*t on the floor. Our big girl, Tessie, injured her right read leg as a pup and has pretty bad arthritis in it now, so she doesn't do the stairs int he house anymore. So she doesn't wake me up when she needs out anymore. She's found a corner in the great room, thankfully not on carpet, and this last week I woke up to S.O.T. F. twice, grrr... Once was so bad that I managed to smell it all the way upstairs through my closed door. Blech... So not the freshly-brewed coffee and bacon scent I'd rather smell when waking.
I was in my hometown for an early Easter celebration with my parents. My youngest sibling was in town with his newly-minted fiancee, they actually spent the night a our house on Thursday before continuing on to good ol' 52732.
I love watching my kids play with my parents, they love playing with my parents, and I believe my parents love laying with them. Nothing warms my heart more than seeing my child turn to my parents with a wide smile, arms outstretched for a hug, climbing into their laps with a book, showing them how the little pink ponies climb the mountains of their knees. I know I sort of fade into the background while this is happening -- I want them to know each other without my prodding or interference. I want them to establish that relationship without me interrupting the magic.
There is something truly magical about the love you have for a grandparent -- nothing anyone can say ever tarnishes the special glow they have for you and you have for them. They don't need to do anything but love a grandchild, and it is nearly impossible for a child to do anything that a grandparent dislikes -- at least in my opinion. I have nothing but warm memories of my grandparents -- of exploring their homes in search of something hidden and interesting. I loved hearing stories about when my parents were children in a time so very different than my childhood. I loved to stare at pictures of them when they were my age, counting the freckles on my mother's nose and giggling at the stiff-looking coif in my dad's school photos, sure that his hair was as sharp as a porcupine quill. I wondered what color their clothing was and if they wanted to have their picture taken on that day.
My kids aren't quite old enough to do that, though Milo has begun to ask me about what it was like when I went to Kindergarten and if I liked playing Super Mario Brothers. I tell him that Mario didn't come about until I was in high school, but that I remember my younger brothers playing it and that I loved going to school because I loved learning. Violet insists, "My grow up to be a big ghoul like mommy!" They both talk about being different things when they grow up, but right now Milo says he wants to be a teacher and give "test-es." When told that Grandpa is a teacher who gives tests, he beamed, saying "I could do that, too!"
Little man, I'm sure your grandparents would all agree that you can do anything you want to do.