First we went to a local park to play in their "children's discovery garden." What a lot of fun that was, with water features, sand play areas, a topiary maze and an outdoor "music garden" with features that make cool sounds when children play there. We had a difficult time getting him to leave, but...
Next we went to a nearby children's "hands on" science museum, where he saw live animals, rode simulated amusement rides on other planets, and learned how to pierce an ordinary balloon with a bamboo skewer without popping it. (It freaked him out a little, but we're going to kill with that trick at the next family birthday party!)
Then on the way home, we found ourselves pulling into a food truck rally for a special treat. They had so many tempting offerings: authentic fish tacos, slabs of barbecued ribs, fancy gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches, and tantalizing vegan dishes made from organic greens and squashes... He had a hot dog. He liked it.
Great day! But Granny sure was tired! Later at our house (sleepover!) Grandson asked if he could play with my Kindle for a while. I keep all kinds of fun puzzles and educational games (and Angry Birds. OKAY! Also Angry Birds!) on my Kindle, and I encourage the kiddos to have at it. This time the conversation went something like this:
Grandson: Granny, can I play with your Kindle?
Me: Okay, but Granny is tired, so you have to go get it yourself. It's in my bedroom, on the
After about five minutes of rustling around:
Grandson: Granny, I can't find it. Come help me?
Me: Did you look in my bedroom....?
On the nightstand next to the bed....?
Grandson: Yes, and it's not there. Come help me?
So off I went, heaving my old, tired, garden-chasing, museum-going bones up those stairs, and I found my Kindle. It was in my bedroom. On the nightstand next to the bed. EXACTLY WHERE I SAID IT WOULD BE! I handed Grandson the Kindle, he said, "Thank you, Granny," and off he skipped, happy as a little bird. And then suddenly it dawned on me:
Okay, I'm joking. The thing I have learned from observing this and other baby boys throughout the years is that men are men from the day they are born. I knew he was a man the first time I pulled a pair of his dirty socks from between my couch cushions. And again the first time he passed gas in my face and chuckled like it was proof of his bodacious wit. And all the times he walks around my house with his little box of toy tools looking for something to "fix."
So, what was I thinking, asking him to find something for himself? He's a man; he couldn't find his own elbow if I drew him a map and had a neon sign pointing to it. These guys are lucky they're adorable, because if they weren't, who in the world would put up with them?
As for this little man, God willing, I hope to live long enough to see him grow up. I want to dance at his wedding. And then I want to commiserate with his poor wife because he is going to drive her bat-plop crazy!
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