Grandkids provide much joy
My husband and I like to host Sunday dinner for any family that’s around. Being local, my son and his wife are usually sure bets. They have 4 children, ages 1 to 6. Each one of their kids is special, of course, but recently we’ve been queued into Thomas, age 3½. He is the third of their brood. Thomas is charming. His blond bangs brush the long eyelashes of his blue eyes that can melt a polar glacier. He’s charismatic with a definite undertone of mischief. He is, quite simply, irresistible.
A month or so ago, after a prolonged stay with Pops and Nona, we turned on our TV. Suddenly, it looked like a celestial comet was our new screen saver. But alas, the starry constellation visual, on further exam, was actually a shattered monitor. Hmmm, we thought, wondering how this could happen. Yet, there was Thomas declaring his innocence even before asked. It didn’t help there was a matchbox box of cars strewed about his feet.
“Thomas, did you throw a (toy) car at Pops and Nona’s TV?”
His response was 3½-year-old certain. “I did not,” he said with charm betrayed by rapid blinks of his twinkling eyes. I had to hide my smile. Thomas is his father’s son. Can I tell you the number of times our son gave us the same answer in a variety of versions over the span of toddlerhood to adolescence? “I did not,” we’ve heard in a number of languages.
Fast forward to Sunday dinner. Thomas was determined to raid our snack drawer stocked with little bags of pretzels, teddy grahams and fruit snacks. As we prepared to serve dinner, Thomas was sweeping his hands through the snacks. His dad instructed him to take just one and put it in his pocket for later. Before you could say, “Come for dinner!” Thomas had removed his pants, and from the corner of my eye, I saw him walking a bit peculiar. Curious, I zoned in. There, bulging out of his fire engine toddler undies were a multitude of Paw Patrol fruit snack packets stuffed into all sides of his size 3T briefs. So many. Thomas, when pressed, justified the covert act of hoarding by saying, “My dad told me to do it.” My son and I locked eyes with a glint of understanding, but then I continued on to plate dessert. After all, my tenure of dealing with forbidden snacks is over. I’m just the grandmother.
Grandparenthood is the best because of its aerial view. I see the struggles my children face with their own, but I can feel the joy. I know how hard it is to raise kids, but I recognize the North Star of love that guides even in trying times. I see my kids work through angst and worry with their own children, yet I trust in the power of their love. I know hard times are not stagnant. Challenges move parents and their children to new places best navigated through the lens of heart dedication. Thomas’ Paw Patrol conundrum is an easy one. There might be a day when the problems are bigger or more heart-wrenching. As I unconditionally believed in my son, my heart swells knowing my grandchildren are enveloped in the same blanket of devotion.
We will continue to host Sunday dinners, Paw Patrol snacks and all. I’m hoping to lock eyes with my son for many years to come as we share such big love for his children. Grandparenthood and parenthood are a good combination, especially for little ones. Pops and Nona will always have a drawer full of treats ready to fill all kinds of pockets.