Considering this is my first foray into Blogistan, I thought I would relate a revelation that overtook me as I was venturing to my car on this beautiful Colorado afternoon. I love being a grandpa! Last Saurday, on December 31, 2011, my grandson Liam Jones Blair turned two. For all of you who aren't recent parents or haven't had toddlers in your home for a while, I ask you to wrap your mind around what that must be like.
First of all, you are short, remarkably short. The dog might be taller than you.
Secondly (and I'm only speculating here) your worldview is somewhat skewed--and I don't mean your perspective from just two-and-a-half feet above terra firma. Everything is a partial mystery, and you're okay with that! Why? Because you are in the figuring-out business and from all recent evidence you're pretty good at it. Every time you dope out something correctly someone seems to be there to tell you how smart you are.
"Look at the big brain on Liam."
And don't forget the love coefficient. Everybody is crazy about you. Speaking from my unbiased position as grandpa, I can't even look at the kid without a stupid grin on my face and every care I brought into the room evaporating. I can't imagine living two years of my life with that kind of power. But he seems to be handling it with grace.
So here's the deal. There I was at this party in my grandson's honor. I'm pretty sure he didn't have a strong grasp that this was all for his benefit. I say this because I watched him at Christmas and even though he had a blast (the boy likes trucks, vrooom!), he wasn't totally aware that this particular day would have significance for the rest of his life. Shoot, every day probably has elements of specialness (I'm pretty sure that is a word; look it up) in the life of a two-year old. But at his birthday, there was a new factor that didn't exist at Christmas--other two and three year olds.
My God, they were everywhere--cousins, daycare friends, children belonging to neighbors. The first to arrive was a friend from daycare. I watched transfixed as Liam greeted her by wobbling over to her and poking at her face. She, in turn, accepted this as a normal manner of saying hello. I couldn't help but feel that this small girl child was more civilized than many adults I know. Perhaps we should all greet one another by touching visages. I, for one, intend to try it.
When the last of the of the tiny humans made their appearance (all told there would be five; I know I gave the impression there was an army, but five just filled all my senses to saturation), I was in heaven. I was a grandpa. I could just stand and marvel at these alien and lovable creatures with no real responsibility. Food in hair--okay with me. Sit on the dog's face--sure thing. Take all your guest's party hats and put them on your head--what could be more natural and charming.
Well, I could go on and on about this grandpa thing and probably will in future posts, but for now I'll have mercy on those of you who aren't as enamored with grandchildren as I am. One last observation, I have yet to see this terrible two thing. I'm pretty sure it's just a myth.