Who Were Those Masked Children?

“Keep your Toe jam off the marbles.” Things I never thought I’d say moved to the column of things said thanks to time this week with my Grandkids. Veni, Vidi, Vici, grandchildren style. Events moved on their own accord and the last four or so days, it really is a bit of a blur, had the Grandkids as daily fixtures while their Mom and Dad tended to life issues. The grandkids inspire me and teach me.

The last week has been filled with learning. My daughter’s children taught me to appreciate. There is a character in Dean Koontz’s book “Odd Thomas” that lives in gratitude. When she wants a chocolate ice cream cone, she has it three days later. She waits for what she craves and appreciates it all the more. She came to mind when I gave my grandkids a lifesaver. One single lifesaver. They are taught to eat healthy and sugared treats are rare for them. Hence, they are savored. One especially active day I gave them more than one. Three to be exact. My Grandson, Ethan, was awed. “Wow. We had two already, Pop-Pop.” He gets it. Gratitude. Sometimes things are even sweeter when we wait for them. Gratitude is a lesson they live and I learn more and more. These kids appreciate.

They hear the music. Really hear it. It is there and heard and danced to, even in car safety seats. Especially Annie, the oldest of the three girls. She digs music, dance, and all things associated therewith. According to her latest report, her taste is music is already well honed and quite insightful, even at five years old. Elvis is her favorite artist. She gets far too little Elvis when her Mom drives. She gets a bunch when Pop-Pop is at the wheel. I enjoyed the danceability of “Burning Love” more this week than ever prior thanks to her gyrations. She helped me hear the music even more.

I learned about limits and how instinctive it is to test them. Meghan knows the rules and heads for the grey as much as possible. Meghan knows when Mom says enough is enough that enough is really enough. When she is told something will be taken away or such, it will happen. My Daughter is a bit like her Father in that regard. Meghan is a kid. A smart kid. She heads for the grey, tests it, and sees where the new barriers are. “The pink lipstick is off the table.” Another thing I said aloud and meant. Meghan tested with a mini-tantrum and heard, “The TV is next. It is up to you.” She settled in and earned time playing the marble game with her Pop-Pop. Her toe cleaning in tandem was a bit much and resulted in, well, you read that already.

From my first toe jam on marbles experience to a revisit to Peanut Butter and Jelly for lunch, the time with the grandkids was literally jam packed. (Come on, even you have to laugh at that!). There were trips to the Air Force Museum (where a new room was discovered and a return trip already promised), the library with its wonderful games, computers, and even books, the playground on the other side of the field, and the field itself. (Yes, there is free theme in those places…Pop-Pop is broke.) There was dancing and singing, stories, too many fruit snacks, too much TV, and the long way on drives so naps could be had. Meghan learned to do two thumbs up and say, “That’s what I’m talking bout, Baby”. Ethan reported his lunch choices from school, there were two choices each day. The one he remembered was the one he ate.

Ethan also showed me there are still cowboy hats out there. I wore one when I was a kid. Along with six-shooters and Texas talking, it was the wild west just east of the Garden State Parkway. With that hat, I was a cowboy. Wore it anywhere and every time possible. Turned out Ethan has a cowboy hat. His comes in the form of a Storm Trooper mask and costume. Same premise though. He wore it in the back seat of the car, on the porch ,to the dinner table, and anywhere and every time possible. He was a Storm Trooper (although I said he was a Cloudy Warrior and had to grow a bit more to be an actual Storm Trooper). The Wild West comes with light sabers now. I made a point of teaching him how to gallop when we went on a walk to the field where my dirt fort is. (He did not have his Storm Trooper mask on at the time but that would have work just as well. I can do light sabers.)

The kids still eat Cherrios just like I did as a kid. Sometimes from a bowl, other times from the box, and sometimes right off the table. They did not know Cherrios sponsored the Lone Ranger on Saturday mornings just before Rin Tin Tin (Shredded Wheat), Roy Rogers (Quik) and Sky King (Nabisco). I guess that wasn’t that interesting or important to them. Instead I combined something new to my spirituality, energy, Zen, new wave, what the hell is he into now, regiment, and their cereal choice and introduced them to Ti Cherrios. We moved the circles (how Zen fitting is that?) slowly through the air, parting the horse’s mane in tribute to heroes from yesteryear, and fed the youngest, Gracie, a Cheerio at a time. We took turns, shared, and played nice. New wave, old principles of just getting along.

I got along with them really well. They give hugs and kisses any time. Perhaps it is me. They just felt the need and gave what was needed. There was one moment when all of them except Gracie were on the porch playing with their cousin, Will. I had the door closed and was watching them through the window with Gracie. Gracie was on my lap, I was on the floor, and the two of us enjoyed the show that played together with Lego’s on the porch. At one point, Annie looked at the window where Gracie and I sat, crossed the porch, opened the door to the kitchen, peeked around the door, and said, “I love you, Pop-Pop”, closed the door, and returned to Legoland. She must have known I was hungry. She fed me. I needed it and it was a hell of a lot better than PB & J on its best day. It’s what for dinner. When we eat right.