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By MaryHelen Swanson
Saturday night Grandpa and I got a jolt of babysitting reality. It’s been a long time since we had complete responsibility for two little ones. After all, our first grandbaby is 21 and finishing up college. It’s been a long time since we changed his diapers or fed him from a small baby spoon.
But we were willing to take on the challenge to give their mom and dad some very much needed time away alone.
It was fun to have a crawler in the house. I spent the afternoon scrubbing my floors in anticipation of her adventures. Most of the unsafe items had been removed, and the toys, safe remnants of children past, were made handy. Crayons and paper were secured, a small seek-n-say was refilled with new triple A batteries, and you could again hear the oinks and moos and see the lights blink. And shiny, new books were set out to entertain the four-year-old.
We were doing fine until the crawler made it to the dining room doorway. She seemed to believe she was not allowed across the threshold. But she could peek around the corner and then ... it hit. Mom wasn’t just in the other room, she wasn’t there at all.
The cries were only whimpers at first, perhaps she believed Mom would hear them and reappear. But she didn’t and I had to swoop her up in my arms. Thus commenced a lengthy stint of baby holding which actually worked through a two-hour nap. Then the four-year-old discovered an unsharpened pencil and when he learned we had an automatic sharpener, (battery powered) he began to put a “fine point” (his words) on it and any other new pencil he could find.
Grandma found the comforts of the rocking chair, while holding the sleeping baby and her brother saw to it that all of our unsharpened pencils were now “useful” (his own words).
Grandpa went off to purchase pizza leaving me alone with the two. Not a big deal, but I couldn’t keep an eye on the older child as he went about discovering nifty things in the kitchen. I kept calling to him, “What are you doing?”
“Just lookin’ at stuff,” was his reply. And then he was hungry. He stood with the refrigerator door open perusing the contents for a long time. I tried to explain that there was cheese in the door. Finally I got up and went to the kitchen, being extremely careful not to wake the baby. “There, behind you,” I said.
He turned and with glee reached for some slices of cheese. But he had no intention of gobbling them up. He wanted a “cheese grilled sandwich.” And he knew, detail by detail, how to make one. He’d watched his dad carefully. I told him he had to wait until Grandpa returned home. Grandpa is really good at making grilled cheese sandwiches, I said. And that’s no lie.
So he waited and searched for more unsharpened pencils.
Finally, there was a rustle at the door and the dogs began to get excited, Grandpa was home. The youngster was not interested in pizza, he had instructions for his granddad on how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. He explained, step by step, how to put the butter on the bread, and then the cheese and then when it is cooked, put the other bread on and it’s ready.
And it was, and after Grandpa “broke the sandwich” the child came into the living room with his culinary delight on a paper plate. “It’s the right temperature,” he said with a big smile as the yellow cheese oozed from the toasted bread. It was gone in a flash, making me feel a little less guilty about letting him eat the Reese’s Peanut Butter cups earlier.
When the baby woke, she no longer found comfort on her Grandma’s soft chest; that’s when Grandpa’s gentle voice and strong arms were welcomed by both the child and her Grandmother. And then grandma moved on to help a preschooler trace his hand on a piece of computer paper for the fridge door. So it was, two rusty grandparents were able to keep the little ones busy so Mom and Dad could take a break.
Parenthood is wonderful, grandparenthood is even better. Just about the time all the new pencils were sharpened and the baby was really needing her mother, the door open and there were the folks. We oiled the grandparent skills that night and we’re ready to do it again.
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