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I came down the stairs with Sam still in his jammies.
"Mommy?" he asked.
"Yes, Mommy's here. And someone else is here too," I said.
We came down the last flight, and there was Mommy, waiting. And there was Grandpa, waiting too.
Now, usually when I bring Sam down and Mommy's there, he wiggles from my arms to get to hers. He likes me just fine, but Mommy is Mommy.
But not this time. This time he sat in my arms, looking back and forth. Mommy, Grandpa. Mommy, Grandpa. Then he kicked to get free, and when I set him down headed straight for his little fenced-in play area.
My wife, my dad and I looked at each other. "I think he wants you to go play with him," my wife said to my dad.
So off my dad went, and in a moment we could hear Sam's little voice, remarking on one of his books. "Birds! Sky! Leaves!"
"Yep, there are some birds up in the sky," my dad's low voice followed. "And there are leaves blowing in the wind."
"What are you, a potted plant?" I said to my wife.
"Yeah, really!" she said with a laugh. "Here I thought he liked me."
And he does, of course. At not quite two (his birthday is the 21st), Mommy is still the all in all.
But Grandpa is very special.
Since Sam was born, my dad has been coming over about once a week just to spend time with him. At first he would just hold him, coo at him, walk with him. Last summer he would spend patient hours letting Sam hold his fingers to practice walking. Nowadays he gets down on then floor in the play area and looks at toys and books, or goes outside with him if it's nice.
He comes after breakfast. He leaves before lunch. He chats with us a little if we're around. He chats with Sam a lot, asking questions, answering questions, always mild, always calm.
Sam adores him. And why not? How often can Mommy or Daddy take two or three hours and lavish the time on him?
It was, of course, the same for me with my dad. He was working full time, traveling on occasion, serving on the school board and building three additions to our house during my childhood. He was grounded in his faith and rock solid in his sense of who he was and what he expected from us, and our family was built on that foundation. I was absolutely in awe of him. But the times we got to out-and-out play with him were rare enough to be treasured.
They are also, perhaps not coincidentally, some of the best memories of my childhood. Having him throw the football around with my brothers and me was incredibly special, and to this day we all tell stories about his occasional entries into our make-believe games.
And that is most likely how my older kids feel about me, and how Sam will feel about me. And it's fine - probably exactly what a father should be.
But watching my dad, I think I know the kind of grandpa I want to be.
Brian David/Oct. 29, 2008
Read the complete post at http://pittsburghmom.com/blogs/burghdad/archive/2008/11/13/how-to-be-a-grandpa-someday.aspx
Posted
Nov 13 2008, 04:21 PM
by
Burgh Dad