Grandchildren are a gift. They are a reminder of the joys of parenthood, while at the same time they can be handed back to their parents. This usually takes place when the little darlings start being reminders of all the downsides of parenthood. In this I’ve been pretty lucky. My Grandson is at that age where discovery is priceless, and the world is just opening up to him as a fascinating place. With each new discovery, I am reminded of his Mother at that age. With each new disaster, I’m reminded of his Mother at that age. The difference now is that when discovery takes place, for things like gravity or the bursting radius of a can of Coke, I no longer have to clean up the mess. This is where a grandparent finally can enjoy the antics of a young explorer without feeling the strain of “OH MY GOD!! NOW WHAT??” Instead, I feel nothing but joy when these things happen.
When the dog runs in terror, I smile. When the bric-a-brac shatters on the floor, I smile. As the toy car flies through the air and impales itself into an unsuspecting bystander (usually me), I note the minor injury, but I still smile. So, why in the world would I smile at these disasters? When I stop to answer the question of why these minor disasters, even the ones with light injuries and several casualties, would make me smile, I realized the answer in a flash. “I’ll be damned, she really did have one just like her!” Now tell me, who doesn’t truly appreciate having that last laugh! (I also then realized that perhaps this is why MY Father used to smile at the things my daughter used to do. I guess that is more definitive evidence that history does repeat itself, even at the micro level.) ~ Michael S. Pauley
When the dog runs in terror, I smile. When the bric-a-brac shatters on the floor, I smile. As the toy car flies through the air and impales itself into an unsuspecting bystander (usually me), I note the minor injury, but I still smile. So, why in the world would I smile at these disasters? When I stop to answer the question of why these minor disasters, even the ones with light injuries and several casualties, would make me smile, I realized the answer in a flash. “I’ll be damned, she really did have one just like her!” Now tell me, who doesn’t truly appreciate having that last laugh! (I also then realized that perhaps this is why MY Father used to smile at the things my daughter used to do. I guess that is more definitive evidence that history does repeat itself, even at the micro level.) ~ Michael S. Pauley
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