Grandkids keep the dull times off
(Originally published January 2023)
Over the holidays, while spending more than the usual amount of time with two of our five grandchildren, I was reminded of how fun it is to be around little ones. In fact, they slept over one night, and Mark and I had so much fun it took us two days to recover.
Our kids were just as entertaining when they were that age. But it’s been 20 years or so since we had a preschooler, and sometimes we forget how constant and unrelenting the fun was back then.
Over the years, as the kids grew up, Mark and I moved on to less exciting times. We had to learn how to have conversations without stopping every eight seconds to say, “Cover your mouth, please,” or “Hold that with both hands!”
Just an old man taking it easy with the grandkids
With just the two of us, we had to adjust to having entire meals without a single meltdown to break up the monotony. We had to get used to sleeping through the night. We had to resign ourselves to an existence rife with privacy and personal space and time to think.
Time passed, and one day I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d found a piece of Fig Newton ground into the carpet or been startled awake at 5:30 a.m. by a concerned child, her face inches from mine, asking where her Dora the Explorer socks were.
Luckily, we have the grandkids to remind us of the good old days. When we’re with them, they make sure we’re having fun every single minute, even when we’re on the phone or in the bathroom or letting the dog in or out (he likes to get in on the action, too). Together, they can keep us engaged without a moment’s peace for hours on end. It’s invigorating, honestly.
When they were here last week and Mark was at work, they teamed up all day to eliminate any risk that I might get bored. At one point, for example, my granddaughter asked me to help her blow her nose. While I held a tissue to her face, my grandson stubbed his toe. While I attended to him as he howled and rolled around on the floor in a World Cup-worthy flop, his sister spilled her milk.
While I was grabbing a rag, her brother wailed that the dog had stolen the last bite of his bagel. Just then, his sister burst into tears because her toe had touched the milk puddle, putting her at risk of imminent death from wet sock syndrome unless she immediately changed her entire outfit.
“Just then, his sister burst into tears because her toe had touched the milk puddle, putting her at risk of imminent death from wet sock syndrome unless she immediately changed her entire outfit. ”
The day carried on like that, with the kids filling in the slower periods by talking nonstop and saying “Nana!” over and over any time I failed to actively observe them, say, coloring.
Lucky for Mark, the kids saved some of their best material for when he got home after a long day on his feet. They tackled him at the door, demanding that he get on the floor and wrestle with them for the standard duration: 30 minutes or until someone bumped their head, whichever came first. What a welcome change from his normal routine of taking a long, hot bath and then putting his feet up for the evening.
That night, we blew up the youth-sized air mattresses we had naively bought a few years ago with the notion that the kids would feel safer sleeping in our bedroom. Invariably, our grandson ends up in bed with us after 10 minutes, citing a bad dream he predicts he will have later.
By 11 p.m. on these nights, sleeping arrangements in our bed are as follows, from left to right: blankets hanging to the floor on Mark’s side, then Mark, then a child starfished in the middle, then a cat, then me on the right-hand eight inches of the mattress, with no blankets whatsoever, clinging to the edge.
This time, I wasn’t in the mood to engage my grip strength all night while risking hypothermia. So I curled up in the fetal position on the unused air mattress and pretended I was camping.
At 5:30 the next morning—after a night during which I discovered the only thing more restful than sleeping on an air mattress is sleeping on an air mattress that is 18 inches shorter than your body—I was startled awake by a concerned child, her face inches from mine, asking where her unicorn slippers were.
It feels so good to have fun again.
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