The good thing about Grand children

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It is often said that the good thing about Grand children is that you can play with them a while, keep them a while, enjoy them a while, be frustrated that an eighteen month old can be so independent, spoil them, and then give them back to their parents.

We had a great weekend for watching the youngest. The temperature was mild (got into the 70's today) not too much wind. Her mother and father went deer hunting, also the paternal grandparents, so we were elected, or blessed, take your pick.

Unfortunately both the grandbaby and grand mother picked this weekend to be sick. Wife had a sinus infection and the baby a cough and runny nose.

This didn't seem to affect Callie's desire to play and generally keep us entertained. She played so hard it wore both of us out. Naturally drawn more to her grandmother (she sees me as the one that puts her to sleep in the easy chair) she proceeded to have to be fed, play with the etch-a-sketch, blocks, demand to be read to, play dress up with strings of beads and frustrate the pooch by repeatedly telling him "NO, NO Toto" (her version of Toby) and trying to keep her treats out of his reach. The poor wife was soon down for the count and had to lie down so it fell to me to be the host.

I'm here to confess that they don't make a vitamin B12 pill strong enough to keep up with her, but finally she was calling for her baby (doll) and milk.. Rubbing her eyes in frustration for they were disobeying her by trying to close. Took me the better part of half an hour reading, singing, rocking and finally just letting her cry to get her and I an hour and half nap, only to be awakened to be sent out for burgers for supper. Bedtime was another case of letting her get so tired that she couldn't resist the sand man.

E. T. Sullivan once wrote these interesting words: “When God wants a great work done in the world or a great wrong righted, he goes about it in a very unusual way. He doesn’t stir up his earthquakes or send forth his thunderbolts. Instead, he has a helpless baby born, perhaps in a simple home and of some obscure mother. And then God puts the idea into the mother’s heart, and she puts it into the baby’s mind. And then God waits. The greatest forces in the world are not the earthquakes and the thunderbolts. The greatest forces in the world are babies.”

I'm here to affirm that when it comes to resisting the wants and needs of a small child I'm always in that proverbial tight spot between an irresistible force and an immovable object. Sweet torture. And they do change me more than I care to admit.

We hear and read on a regular basis of someone abusing a child. I'm not talking about a little spanking to get their attention, which is sometimes necessary, but acts of cruelty so horrific that even I (who sometimes wishes the darkside wasn't so alluring) can't wrap my mind around it.

Just an ol' softy noodling at the keyboard here in the kudzu grotto.