Katrina and I were the perfect parents…that is, until we had children. Today, we're trying to prove to our oldest son that we're the perfect Grandparents. He's dubious. The following are 10 Reflections from Katrina's and my efforts last week, when my son (Geoffrey), his wife, and their three children visited, to convince him of our competence.
Reflection #1: I'm scared of my son
Okay…not scared really. But when did the line of authority shift? How does this happen? One second he's my little boy and I’m in charge, and in the blink of an eye I'm approaching him like Oliver asking for more gruel just to take my grandchildren out to play.
He considered Katrina's and my request to take the children for a walk with skepticism. "Is it safe?" We assured him it was. "Will they get wet?" (he knows the path circles a pond.) We assured him they wouldn't. "They'll need jackets," he told us. I was offended. Of course, we had their jackets. "And shoes," he added. Goodness. What kind of grandparent does he think I am? Did he think I would take them out without shoes? With a tone of annoyance, I even said that to him. I could tell he felt a little bad.
Then I whispered to Katrina, "Quick…grab their shoes."
Reflection #2: I also crave his approval
He approved our request…But I got the sense it was on a trial basis. He vigilantly watched Katrina lead our three grandchildren and our dog Dickens, out the door.
Once we were outside, he moved to the living room window, where, like a coach watching his team scrimmage for the first time, he scrutinized everything, evaluating if he had made the right decision.
Probably he was reflecting on the memory when he was five I lifted him and tossed him over a stream so his shoes wouldn't get wet…in my mind I envisioned him softly landing on his feet on the rocky embankment on the other side…instead my lack of understanding of physics revealed itself and with a loud WHOOMPH (some of which was his breath knocked out of him) landed flat on his back.
I knew it was imperative this walk be a success…that my three grandchildren not only return safe and sound, but with smiles, giggles, and happy memories.
Reflection #3: My grandchildren are Disney characters
To best understand how events unfolded, it will be helpful to know these three of my six grandchildren better. Envision the following Disney characters.
The six-year-old is 'Joy' from Inside Out. Energetic, vivacious…with a strong sense of right and wrong. The four-year-old Alice in Wonderland - introverted, imaginative, and cautious. My year-old grandson? Mowgli. He grunts and growls a lot. Would live outdoors if he could. And has a special bond with Dickens. They even share potato chips. And by share, I mean they take turns swapping slobbery nibbles out of each chip.
Geoffrey said to me, "Dad, don't allow that. I'm worried about the germs." But I assured him it was okay; Dickens had her shots.
Reflection #4: I blame our "cat"
Our cat, Nick, isn't normal. He's not even fully cat. He's part hypocrite. He ACTS sweet and lovable…but will viciously turn on others in a heartbeat. He's also part dog…trotting side-by-side with us when we go on our walks. People see him and say, "awwww…isn't he sweet?" I just roll my eyes as Nick smiles impishly. Gratified by his successful deception.
Reflection #5: We were a Norman Rockwell painting
Everyone was smiling. Joyful even. We had successfully cajoled Mowgli to sit in the stroller…which Katrina began to push. Joy and Alice skipped happily next to Dickens, who walked obediently by my side.
I snuck a backward glance at the living room window to ensure the judgmental figure was witnessing this marvelous moment.
Then…Nick spotted us. Indignant that he was not privy to this party, he hurried toward us, loudly complaining about our boorish behavior.
Reflection #6 We were an Edvard Munch painting
Nick's arrival on the scene sparked the following:
Mowgli shrieked in delight and frantically scrambled from his stroller so he could smother Nick…oblivious to the fact that Nick is not into smothering…nor potato chips.
Dickens loved the idea of smothering Nick and barked encouragement at Mowgli while pulling hard against my tight grip on the leash.
Cautious Alice took off running in the other direction while Joy surveyed the mayhem, uncertain where she was most needed. Unfortunately, Alice's lower body did not maintain the same speed as her upper body, and the cat, dog, Mowgli, Joy, Katrina, and I all froze mid-action to observe in horror as the inevitable occurred. As Alice's upper body continued to outrun her lower body, she slowly transitioned from a perpendicular position with the ground to a parallel one, culminating in a head-first slide that would have impressed Pete Rose.
I made sure to not look at the living room window lest I be struck by the glare…and I don't mean the sun reflecting off the glass.
Reflection #7: His daughter, in tears, affected Geoffrey's better judgment
Or maybe he was too distracted seeing to Alice's bloody knees. But whatever the case, Geoffrey gave us a 2nd chance. Sans Alice, who rested in her father's arms…whimpering.
And this time we made it down the driveway and to the path, without incident.
In hindsight…we probably should have counted that a success and turned back toward home.
But we didn't.
Reflection #8: Cats…and Mowgli…have no sense of direction
Concerned by Mowgli's intent to lovingly smother him…but not concerned enough to allow us to walk without him…Nick stalked us from a safe distance behind. Which would have been okay, but Mowgli (who had made it clear sitting in the stroller was absolutely not an option) would turn from the intended direction we needed to go and instead ran backward toward Nick…who seeing Mowgli come at him, would run further away, which only encouraged Mowgli to run faster (and further backward).
For every 50' forward, we were going 75' backward. We needed a plan, or we would be out there until dark.
Apologetically, Katrina turned to me and said, "There's only one option…you're going to have to carry Nick."
Reflection #9: Picking up Nick is terrifying.
When Nick sees me coming, he flops onto his side. Sometimes this allows me to gently lift him. But remember, he's part hypocrite, so other times it is to take advantage of my vulnerability and to bite my hand. Never do I lift Nick without beads of sweat dripping off my forehead.
This time, he condescended to allow me to hold him. I became the Pied Piper…leading Mowgli, Dickens, Joy, and Katrina (pushing the empty stroller) down the path…THE RIGHT DIRECTION!
The problem was…I made it look like too much fun, and Joy insisted she could, and should, carry Nick.
I said yes…what could go wrong?
Reflection #10: Things went wrong.
Nick didn't scratch Joy. Nick didn't even try to escape her tiny grasp. Instead, he expressed his disapproval by stretching his head out to her upper arm and bit down…holding his teeth firmly onto her arm.
All I could think was, "Geoffrey was right…she did need a jacket."
With a little prying…and Mowgli and Dickens barking encouragement…I removed Nick from traumatized Joy's arm.
We walked into the house…bedraggled…bloody…whimpering.
Geoffrey took a look at his obviously injured daughter and accusingly asked, "YOU DIDN'T TRY TOSSING HER OVER A STREAM, DID YOU???"
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