I’m not the first person to observe that being a grandparent is a lot more fun than being a parent, but I’m certainly one of the most enthusiastic advocates of that concept.
Actually, I did have a lot of fun with my children: We rented movies off the $1 shelf at the video store and ate supper in the living room on Friday nights.
We went to the park and played Wiffle Ball or tag, and fed the squirrels the cereal that had gone stale because nobody liked it even though the kids insisted they weren’t picking it out just because of the fabulous prize in the box.
We hosted rowdy H-O-R-S-E tournaments on the basketball goal in the backyard. We sat outside on the deck at night and looked at the stars and told scary stories until everyone, well, got scared, and then we all ran back inside and slammed and locked all the doors.
Once in a while, when the bills weren’t too overwhelming and the kids had earned a special reward, we drove over to the mall in Evansville and rode the escalator to the second floor.
That’s it. That’s all we did. Just drove over there, rode the escalator up and back down, walked around the mall and looked at stuff we couldn’t buy, and then drove back home.
Those were good times indeed, but the good times, they just keep on rollin’ now that the grandkids are big enough to do all kinds of cool stuff with.
My grandboy Brody, age 7, came over to hang out a couple of weeks ago. I forget now what his parents and sister were doing that night; actually, I didn’t even listen to what my daughter said because all I was interested in was getting my hands on Brody.
He wanted to go eat at MOD Pizza, which he likes because they put only the stuff he wants on his pizza, which is to say, cheese only. The nice lady behind the counter fixed his pizza, then mine, which had a few more decorations on it, and asked our names.
“Brody Coyote and Granma,” I replied. Regardless of what she may have thought, she wrote those names down and called them out when the pizzas came out of the oven.
Brody and I had only a short time together before his mommy came over to pick him up. But now I was geared up and ready for action, so I casually mentioned to my son and daughter-in-law that if Zeke wanted to come over for a visit, well, the door was open.
Zeke packs a lot of energy into his 6-year-old, curly-haired body, so I made sure I took a nice long nap before he arrived on Saturday afternoon.
His favorite place to eat is McDonald’s, and that is absolutely fine with me. I like it, too.
We went to the drive-through because the best way to maximize the fun of a Happy Meal is to sit in the back of your pickup truck in a random parking lot and have a picnic, so that’s what we did.
Then we went to the park and played tag and follow-the-leader, and then it was back to my house for an evening of fun and games.
Literally.
Already aware that my batteries are far more likely to run down before Zeke’s, I had gone shopping the day before, walking up and down every aisle to find a toy, game, gadget or gizmo that would keep him interested and occupied. Zeke is the kind of kid who is not at all intimidated by lots of little parts and pieces; in fact, the more, the merrier.
So when I found “Marble Maze,” with 105 pieces that could be snapped together in an infinite number of designs, creating towers, bridges, ramps and a whole bunch of etceteras, and then you drop a marble down the top and watch it roll and bounce and make its way through a bunch of obstacles and then come out at the bottom.
So that was big fun, and even included an educational conversation about gravity in which we discussed how things only fall down, not up, when Zeke noticed that some of his uphill ramps were not working as he had intended.
We also had fun with a little remote-controlled mouse that zoomed swiftly around the house. Zeke was delighted as my dog Rufus sniffed curiously at the little critter as it spun in circles. Then, as the mouse sped out from under an end table, Zeke noticed that it had picked up a cloud of dust.
“Granma will just attach a Swiffer pad and let the mouse help with the housework this weekend,” I said.
Finally it was time for lights out.
Zeke, Rufus and I — but not the mouse — managed to crowd together on my little bed. Zeke insisted he would not go to sleep, but he was soon snoozing peacefully as I clung to the edge of the mattress and hoped that I at least wouldn’t wake anyone up if I fell to the floor.
He had to get home in time for church the next morning, but fortunately woke up early enough for us to go to Huddle House for breakfast. We got lucky and claimed the seats where you can watch the cooks at work, so that was an added bonus — along with the whipped cream smiley face they piped onto his pancakes.
I took Zeke home, leaving with not just one but two big hugs, a wave, a smile and a promise of “next time.” And then I went back home, took a nap … and dreamed about how much fun it is to be a grandparent.