Susan Writes

Last summer my youngest Grand liked being swaddled in a blanket.  He ate and slept.  I changed his diaper and rocked him.  Then he ate and slept, ate and slept, just like most newborns.

This summer my Grand and I play.  We sit on the floor.  I toss a small plastic alphabet block into the air.  He runs under it, picks it up from the floor, and puts it in my hand.  I balance the block on his head.  He laughs and tilts his head back, trying to see the block.  I stack red and blue blocks.  One, two, three, four, five…he swipes his hand across the tower and the blocks tumble onto the floor.  He laughs.  “Heh, heh, heh, heh.”

My Grand chooses Machines at Work from the book basket.  He turns the pages faster than I can read.  “Bulldozer, backhoe, digger.  Ker-plop, the dirt falls to the ground,” I say.  He echoes, “KER PLOP, KER PLOP!”  Then he’s up and walking.

My Grand is constantly on the move.  If he wore a pedometer, I’d have proof that he surpasses 10,000 steps a day.  He circles the kitchen table.  Through the living room.  Around the coffee table.  Down the hallway.  Outside he mows the concrete patio with his toy lawnmower.  He pushes anything and everything, even a water play table, without the water.  He picks a geranium leaf and rubs it between his fingers.  And he bangs two landscaping rocks together.

It’s lunchtime.  I eat a chicken sandwich.  He has chicken, sweet potatoes, and kid-sized pasta.  I put small bites of all three on his high chair tray.  He picks out and eats he pasta, pushes the chicken and potatoes to the edges of his tray, and says “Mmmmmm,” meaning ‘More.’  Next time, I’ll offer pasta last.

As my little Grand sits facing me on my lap, I sing Pat A Cake.  He slaps his legs and in his own language sings along.  He stretches his arms high to ‘throw ‘em in the pan.’  His hand touches my nose.  I say “Bonk.”  He laughs and touches my nose again.  “Bonk!”  Again and again and again.  The game ends when he slaps instead of touching.

His momma and daddy wave good-bye and say, “We’ll be back in a little while.  You and Gran have fun.”  My Grand flings his body against the door and wails for three seconds.  I pick him up and hug him and gently kick a roll of red duct tape across the wood floor.  No more wailing.  My Grand runs to the rolling tape, picks it up, brings it to me, and then walks, as fast as his fourteen-month-old legs will move, back to the exact place where the tape stopped.  I roll.  He fetches.

My Grand and I play.  Just like grandchildren and grandmothers are suppose to.

Filed under: Family, Grandchildren | Tagged: Grandchildren, Grandparents | Leave a comment »

Three little words.  When my two-year-old Grand shouts them, I punch my patience button.  Another three little words.  When my two-year-old Grand shouts them, I celebrate.

Ruth ran to the kid shoe basket that sits beside her family’s kitchen door.  Her mother had just announced, “Let’s go outside.  Everyone get shoes and jackets on.”  Ruth threw shoes onto the floor.  “Get your brown Crocs.  You can slip them on yourself,” said Mother.

“New pink shoes!”  Ruth said.  New pink shoes with Velcro straps across the top.

“Then you might need someone to help you,” Mother said as she took lightweight jackets off the coat rack.  My Grand’s older brother and sister quickly put on their slip-on shoes and their jackets and ran outside.  She sat in the floor holding her new pink shoes.

“Here, Ruth, let me help,” I offered.  I pulled a kitchen table chair close to her and sat down.

“My do it!”  she said.   Three little words.  I punched my patience button.  Her mother raised her eyebrows, nodded to me, and went outside, carrying Ruth’s jacket.  My Grand shoved her toes on her right foot into the left shoe.

“That shoe goes on your other foot,” I said.  She jerked the shoe off with such force that it flew over her head.

“My get it!”  With a shoe in each hand, she sat on the floor and placed her shoes directly in front of her feet.  “Like that?”  I agreed, like that.  One top strap on each shoe was loose.  Two other straps were fastened securely.

Ruth tried to shove her feet into her shoes.  Her brow wrinkled.  “If we loosen all the straps, it’ll be easier, “ I suggested.  If Ruth heard me, she ignored me.  I sat on my hands so I couldn’t pick up both shoes, loosen the Velcro straps, slip the shoes onto my Grand’s feet, and fasten the straps.  Her brother, sister, and mother were outside in the sunshine.

Ruth pushed and rocked her feet until she finally had both shoes on.  She stood, looked down, and wiggled her toes.  “This right?” she asked.  Yes, her shoes were on the right feet.  She bent over, from the waist, and fastened the loose Velcro straps.  She stood straight.  Hands open and stretched high over her head.  Feet apart.  Eyes twinkling.  “I DID IT!”  she shouted.  Another three little words.  Time to celebrate!  I lifted her onto my lap for a two-arm hug.

“Outside!”  Ruth ran straight to her mother.  “I DID IT!”  She looked at her feet.

Mother clapped her hands and hugged her daughter.  “Now, let’s put your jacket on.”  Mother held the jacket for Ruth to slip her arms into.

“My do it!”  Ruth said.  I watched as her mother laid the jacket on the ground and reminded her daughter to lie on top of it, slip her arms in the sleeves, and then stand up.  I reset my patience button.  I didn’t want to miss the next celebration.

My do it!  I DID IT!  My two-year old Grand shouts three little words.

Filed under: Family, Grandchildren | Tagged: Grandchildren, Grandparents | 1 Comment »