Grandchildren -- The True Treasures of a Long and Distinguished Life in and out of GeezerHood!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:            Grandchildren -- The True Treasures of a Long and 

                           Distinguished Life in and out of GeezerHood!!

Such a handsome lad.  Love the 
Colorful Shades!

There are of course -- in the sphere of building great relationships with grandchildren -- certain imperatives:   Abundant and Unconditional Love, Frequent and Well-Deserved Praise, Support, Positive Affirmations... Many and often...   That's how and what we do, and will continue to do; that is, to shower our much-loved grandkids with the most important gifts we can give them, the aforementioned... 

We -- SweetHeart and I -- are privileged to have our first-born, a film and musical phenomenon, in the mix; a brilliant athlete and soccer star; a cross-country and track star athlete and a champion tennis player, and soccer star athlete as well.  But their far more important attributes are the human ones -- their loving and generous personalities, their remarkable senses of humor, their friendship, their kindnesses, their absolutely delightful behavioral characteristics!

 We are fortunate beyond my poor, or anyone's ability to heap praise upon them, or to offer our profound gratitude to have them in our lives!!  I mean, yeah, we're very lucky.  (I'm guessing many grandparental folk feel the same...  Yes?...  Right?!...  Are you listening out there??!) 

A Great Star on and Off 
the Pitch, and Handsome
to Boot!

Such a Talented and
Graceful Runner.  
Shown above at a 
Cross Country Event

The gifts they've given us, like discovering a cache of uncut diamonds while digging in a garden plot, include outstanding films enhanced by original music scores along with opportunities to appear in said films, hours of sometimes sun-drenched or wind-chilled pleasure witnessing soccer (Euro-football) action on the pitch, not to mention a race to score 121 points round a circuitous (preferred!) and colorful track (cribbage).  

Racing in challenging terrain or round an oval course is another delight we have enjoyed thanks to a granddaughter who loves running, does so superbly, setting personal
records with nearly every event.  Making the State Meet as a result of her abilities and her prowess!  She is poetry in a track uniform.  

We never complain of cricks in our necks, pains or anxiety watching our youngest grandchild smack a tennis ball with skill and poise, optionally lobbing it just out of an opponent's reach.  She -- an excellent singles player -- and her team of both singles and doubles made the State Tournament and emerged triumphant.  She plays soccer as well, and does so quite well!

A Star Runner, both
Cross Country and
Track -- Relay
and 
Whatever They call
the Mile, 
These Days!
(1500 Meters?  
Metric Mile...?)
(What's LuLu Lookin' at?) 

She plays tennis, she
plays soccer, and 
she crochets
superbly as one
can readily
bear witness! 
Her Turtle Loves
Her Too!

    This is, of course an obvious additive,            perhaps one that's needless to add, but I        feel I must pay tribute to our                            extraordinary children, essentially to                thank them for the great pleasure of being    an Abuelo y Abuela! 

    We offer praise and gratitude to said     children for making such titles and     transformative variations possible!  They,     the grandchildren, are life's previous     gems, like sunshine, their faces are glorious   portraits...  I mean, overall, as the title     infers...      Treasures worthy to be installed     in the Prado or the Louvre or at least our       local art center...!   Don't argue with me!!  

I think I said that correctly, or conveyed properly what I think I meant to say!  Didn't I?  (I mean, of course, the "transformative variations" phrase??!!) 

Of course there were challenges in the early or formative years of those beloved grandkids.  Hauling them in the big red coaster wagon down, but then up the steep hill from a lakeside "raceway" to the top of that mountainous incline.  I dripped, was drenched and soaked in sweat as though I had accidentally wandered stupefied into a car wash without the car.  (I think I only did that once, but I may have been inebriated, or simply stunned by an errant golf ball!...  or was it a dropped brick in a construction site??!!)....  I can't readily recall...  But refreshing, the car wash, that is!!

Oh, and didn't we have a hoot throwing them into the air and letting then land squealing and laughing crazily on a queen mattress.  Making them manic and buzzed in the process, and exhausting ourselves as well.  Our children were not always thrilled with that outcome, meaning returning to them the half-crazed and wired grandkids of course.  Lots of sugary treats didn't help much!  But SweetHeart and I sure had fun in the process!

(Special Note of Dedication:   For Coen (Coey, Co Co), Sean (Seany), Lucy (LuLu) and Sophia (PhiPhi, Phia) who give us such joy, laughter, love and happy adventures!  Thank You!!)  

Submitted 11-13-2025 -- by Joel K  

   

 

    

 

The Roles We Play, and Accept, in Our Changing Lives!

 

Memoirs of a Geezer

  

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:        The Roles We Play and Accept in Our Changing Lives!

One might suppose, if one is in one's GeezerHood, it could be a bit dangerous to become overly contemplative in times of quiet.  Non-productive, possibly even foolish thoughts might tend to flood one's consciousness.  

However, inasmuch as we've started this conversation, may as well plow ahead.  Certain metaphors -- or are they similes? -- spring into the cerebellum like.................................

 Mystic Pronghorns.  (Please see image, above!)  A chain, for example, can have many links, but still it is a single entity.  A tree sprouts a great many branches, but remains a single unit of living flora.  A Venetian blind contains many adjustable slats, but the whole is one thing, one product...  You get the idea, eh?

You see where I'm going with this nonsense?  (I wish I did!!?).  A human being has many

parts and many roles; it's the latter, life's many roles, that leads us into a more interesting discussion.  (One might suppose that "interesting" could be a bit of a presumption, depending on how this meandering plays out!)

When born I became a child of parents.  In the passage of time I realized I was also a brother to a sister and a brother, (the latter a bigger and stronger entity who'd pay me a dime or a quarter if, when he practiced his jujitsu on me, I would become the injured party, so to speak.  Not sure if he ever paid off!  Not really important in the scheme of this dissertation...  but I digress!...)

Next, student in a class full of students, then member of the US military services in a squadron or a flight or a phalanx full of a "GI's."  Student again in a university setting...  lots of different classrooms with instruction in many different disciplines.  Friend, companion, confidant, member of society in general, one who, with a certain degree of intelligence and understanding,  is able to accept and embrace diversity, making friends with those of different beliefs, colors and creeds.  

Then, on to what many consider the more important roles in the fascinating diversity of one's lifetime.  Marriage partner, father, uncle, grandfather, granduncle, great granduncle...  Paternal and avuncular roles can be critical, and crucial, to those over whom we have influence!

Where we going with this?  Each of us, I believe, is a composite of many different parts, possibly many different stages of life, even, I guess, many different or changing personalities or identities.  Was I a compete idiot as a teenager?  Quite possibly.  Do people improve with age, like cheese or wine or fruit pies or leftovers from a holiday feast?  Hmmm...  a ponderous question, indeed!  One hopes the answer is "YES"!

I'd like to think that we human beings actually do become our better selves as we age, as we grow in maturity and experience.  Parents seem to improve as grandparents. Although their children may disagree when grandparents return grandchildren to their parents, the kids wired and crazed with sugary treats, and overly stimulated with rough play as grandparents regress into childlike foolishness.  (Better selves, better angels?)

So what's the point?  I don't know...  Life is a series of stages and roles and change, of course.  As the brilliant Carl Jung suggests, "Life behaves as if it goes on (and on forever)"...  It's the illusion of immortality, something many if not most share, at least when we're young...  in middle life...  or even older and healthy...!  And we as human beings have the capacity to accept our varying roles, we have the power to change and enrich our lives if we choose to do so...  possibly the best path or direction or trajectory a human life can pursue (follow?)!  Change!  Change for the better!  Improve with time, but only if the changing road we travel is paved with the macadam of our better selves.   

I guess we all continue to evolve, if we're fortunate enough to live long and productive lives.  Sadly, so many lack that good fortune that allows the "blessed" among us to enjoy our roles, accept them, and change, grow in wisdom and improve, while pursuing knowledge and truth along the way.

(Dedicated to my beautiful and talented nuclear and extended family.  Thank you and Good Morrow...  Happy Days Ahead as well!)       

Humbly Submitted 08-30-2023 --  Joel K.

        

Honesty Can be Harmful to One's Psyche, Possibly!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:             Honesty Can be Harmful to One's Psyche, Possibly *!

Children, as most of us who have progressed beyond a certain age know, can be brutally honest.  True, the utter candor of the very young can be amusing, even refreshing at times. Grandchildren, for example, have a way of expressing whatever's in their sweet little heads that can seem a bit offensive, particularly to geezers who may not always value or appreciate total

Papa receives a mighty blow from Grandson
Seany during a slow-motion, mock fist fight!
(Full video available upon request!)

candor.  
Recently, my grandson, Seany, labeled me the "Great, Grey-Haired Sloth."  The reference was not intended to comment on or make an allegation of slovenliness (a sometimes side-car attached to the definition of "slothfulness"), but rather to the relative speed with which I tend to accomplish tasks or offer an explanation or commentary, when asked!  I am often accused by various family members of being rather slow, of having a deficiency in the alacrity department. I repudiate such unwarranted accusations.  I am merely deliberate!  Seany also does an imitation of what he perceives as my "old man walk," in which I'm bent nearly in half and shuffle at the speed of a mile every two or three days or so.  

Our youngest grandchild, a granddaughter, Phi Phi -- she's six years old -- sometimes calls me "a very old man."  (The modifier "very" is really quite unnecessary!)  I suppose that at my current age, the suggestion is not merely a "suggestion" but an accurate statement. It depends on one's definition of "old" in the context of the current average life expectancy of the human species.   

I looked it up.  One of the sites lists average age expectancy by state.  In ours it's 77.8.  By that standard, I'm really quite a youngster, and still have good years ahead if indeed I make it to 77.8.  I wonder, though, if the average male is expected to drop off the "mortal coil" at precisely that age??!!  This is disturbing!  We'd better make plans!! **   ...But I digress...

In the splendid "Age of Geezerhood," I note that grandchildren have a special manner of reminding one that one is considered a creature of another era, such as the Pleistocene Age, or maybe Paleolithic.  Grandson, Coen, in his sweet way once told me that I look or could be maybe 20 years or so younger than I actually am.  Granddaughter, Lucy, feels she can still jump into my arms without causing me back spasms or broken skeletal parts.  Maybe they're just being polite.  All the grandkids might be more inclined to ask, "Hey Papa, did you ever ride a bucking triceratops?...  Rope a troodon?...

I forget!  When did you last skin a mastodon?..."      

Society, given today's apparent attitudes and preoccupation with the young, reflect the ideas about age that little children seem to prefer:  "Old goat," "ancient baboon," "fossil breath," "mollusk mug," "prune face" and other offensive terms the elderly tend not to embrace willingly.  Persons of high school and post-high-school age seem also to harbor a peculiar notion of older adults.  According to many of our younger citizens, an "elder" is practically deceased or nearly there when no longer in the "20-something" category.  But, one must also bear in mind that, prior to age 30 or 35 or so, the two hemispheres of the brain have not yet collided to form a cohesive unit!!

We've numbered the states in the order
in which we'll move there to prolong
our life expectancy!  Thank you!

** Returning, for a moment, to the "...plans" allusion in paragraph four of this fascinating treatise on...  well whatever the hell it's about...  if we move to Vermont we don't have to drop dead until we're 80.5.  We could stay there a few years until the big gong of time sends us packing once again, and then we can move to Hawaii where we won't drop dead until we're 81.3.  This is exciting!  We may have a real plan, here!!    

It has been said, or possibly written somewhere, that interaction with grandchildren and house pets can prolong our lives.  We have both, sort of, a daughter and friends with doggies we can borrow, and grandkids too.  But what about when the grandchildren grow up and maybe move to New York or Philadelphia and begin selling subordinated debentures?!!  Some other lucrative obnoxious career path, possibly??!!  What then? Will we become former human beings right away, deceased creatures, before they even reach Ohio?

The Grandchildren:  Seany, Phia,
Coen, Lucy (fm. l. to r., of course)!

Well, I guess it's better to live for the moment, enjoy the time we have, allow the young to berate and belittle us as we wrinkle and stoop.  Let them have their little jokes at our expense. We should place pictures of goats and wrinkly elephants on our ice boxes...  embrace the "Era of Geezerhood" with joy and pride in our aging hearts!  We're the survivors, after all.  We are the Solomon's, the towering intellects who have attained the wisdom of the ages, repositories of knowledge through longevity and eye bags!!  ...jowls and veiny noses, maybe, too!... 

But on the other hand...  "Sweetheart!  Call the real estate people!  Pack stuff!  We're moving to Hawaii before it's too late!!..."  (What'd I do with that straw suitcase again?...) 

Special Note of Gratitude and Attribution:    The perpetrator dedicates this posting to his beautiful and incomparable grandchildren -- Coen and Lucy, Seany and Phia.  I thank them profusely for keeping us "young" and balanced and focused on the present!  I must also thank our beautiful and incomparable daughters who did their share in providing such superior grandchildren.  And to Sweetheart, who suggested the topic, my continuing gratitude for that and so much more! Finally, I thank Vermont and Hawaii for making it possible for geezers to live longer!  That's all.  

*  A subtle homage to The Lady in the Van! 

      Humbly Submitted 03-16-16 -- Joel K.                              

  



  

  

  

Grandparenting and the Illusion of Dignity!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    Grandparenting in the Geezer Age:   Or, Losing One's Dignity?!...  
                                          Um...  If Indeed One Really Ever Had Any Dignity!!??

There are those abroad in the land who insist that human beings possess or should possess some actual dignity, a kind of dignified demeanor.  Especially, I suppose, those who strut about in expensive suits purporting to be your "Average Top-Flight Business Executives."  As for me, any pretense at having ever had any actual dignity was expunged at a quite early time of life.  Allow me to elucidate...

My elder brother was large and strong vs. my somewhat smaller stature, and only a year separated

This is a slightly exaggerated
image of one having been shot
with an arrow, causing the leaking
of one's complement of dignity!

our ages.  He punctured me with steel-tipped darts, once shot me in the leg with a blunt-tipped arrow and frequently "flipped" me into walls when practicing his jujitsu!  (Possibly the bloodletting that resulted caused the draining of ill humors, including any quantity of dignity I may have possessed!!)  My reward was a quarter a flip, if injured in the process (bruises and scars included with no additional fees paid!), and if I promised not to "rat on him" to mater and pater.  I'm not sure if those episodes constitute a "an early loss of any hope of a dignified persona," but there's more, and far more recently...  that is, here in the present, in the time of "GeezerHood."

During a recent trip to the warmer climes of the southern tier, I was cavorting in a swimming pool with my grandchildren, the issue of our elder daughter.  I was floating on an orange, buoyant noodle, having decided to assume the character of an adventurer.  I announced to the grandchildren, "I am Emilio de Leon, bold voyager, and I have just traversed the Atlantic Ocean from West to East on a Flotation Noodle.  Am I in Espana?  El gente de Espana," I proclaimed, "Estoy Aqui!"

In a swimming pool with
grandchildren, having been
pressed into service as an
elevator!  The image below
attempts to illustrate the
challenges of being an
elevator, and being choked,
 to the great amusement
of grandchildren!  

At which point, the children spat mouths full of water into my noble visage, and then commanded in unison, "Go back where you came from, you silly old goat!"  I of course demurred, and then tried speaking to them in French, in case I was mistaken as to my destination on the shores of the European continent.  

"Where are the cheering throngs?" I asked in my best accented French.  (Où sont les acclamations des fouls?)  More jets of expectorated pool water struck my noble countenance, once alight with victorious pride, now awash in mock rejection and humiliation!

"Go away," the children shouted gleefully!  "Go back to your own side of the ocean."  Finally, I "identified" the children as the fabled "Spitting Barracuda" of the Eastern Atlantic.  At that point their determination became unstoppable!  Oh my!  What fun we had on that lengthy and prune-skinned occasion!

During the previous year, with another set of grandchildren, progeny of our younger daughter, I was coerced into service in the self same pool as an elevator.  "Going down," I would announce as the children ordered me into character.  "Second floor -- foundation garments, ladies' frilly frocks, pumps, stockings, millinery..." the final words a choked and gurgling gasp as the "elevator-traveling" children pulled me under the surface.

Are all grandparents so employed by the offspring of their own children?  I've often been a horse -- to most an almost cliche grandparental role -- but also, and quite frequently, a helicopter, a robot, a fire-breathing dragon, a sword-wielding villain, a pack mule, a bovine...

As at least one of the grandchildren has grown older -- the eldest of four -- the expectations of grandparental interaction have changed appreciably.  He, now 11 years old, is a remarkably talented, self-taught juggler.  Though he craves an audience for his art, it is hardly a chore for the watcher, but rather a pleasure to witness his skill and talent.  Just as often, because he's a Harry Potter devotee and much attracted to the "Mario" electronic games, he urges his grandparents to sit with him as he displays his magic wand collection or translates the images in Mario books to the actions of the games themselves.  He also has recorded the musical "overlays" that accompany the games, has entire CD's devoted to "Mario Music."

And here's another example.  July 3rd has become a cherished family gathering day, all of us together to witness the spectacular fireworks show at Milwaukee's Lakefront.  There's lots of idle and play time between arriving in mid-afternoon until the skies go dark and then wild with loud and colorful explosions!  Our two granddaughters, ages 5 and 7, have developed a ritual of

The first-born grandchild
(at left) with his "Baba,"
the name he conferred
upon her even before he
could speak in sentences!

placing small stickers on my sunglasses until the lens are totally obscured.  At other times during the afternoon, they climb upon me, strike me with illuminated wands and other light-up souvenirs, and then all four of them sit on me, one 7-year-old on my throat, the others on various parts of my torso.  Unable to move, my groans of discontent and choked pleas of mercy drive the four of them into convulsions of mirth.  It becomes a prolonged source of glee (with a bit of pushing, jockeying for a better position!).

One of our granddaughters, the older of two, has a most remarkable gift for and sense of humor.  She has often placed a stuffed moose on my head; the moose has large floppy antlers.  She proclaims, "There's a moose on your head" or, "There's a flying moose on your head!"  The phrase has become so popular with the grandkids, my daughter made a T-shirt for me that sports the aforementioned legend, along with an appliquéd moose.  

I could go on, but it may be time to put this episode to bed, perhaps along with a pair of grandchildren who are spending the night.  I love my grandchildren with all that's in me, and my interaction with them may have nothing at all to do with dignity, or the lack thereof, but merely with my own devotion to absurd behavior, a kind of reversion.  So, what the hell, who says one cannot go on being a cow or an elevator, a robot, an aardvark, a reviled visitor to foreign shores.

Sometimes, one simply cannot resist the urge to misbehave, or to adopt various obtuse roles just to join in the fun, to entertain.  I mean, it isn't that long until the grandchildren enter their teenage years and beyond.  Then, when we grandparents behave like silly imbeciles, our grandchildren will look at us with self-conscious displeasure and announce, "OMG...  Why does he have to act like that...  and in front of my friends...  so embarrassing!"

Until that happens, I will endeavor to play the fool, to be myself and to enjoy the moment and

the silliness that pervades their youthful deportment until they, our grandchildren, become more "grown up" and dignified as adolescents and adults (I hope they never actually lose their senses of silliness!!).

Special Notes:  1.)  None of that which my sweet, wonderful grandkids do to me, as described herein, is mean-spirited or discouraged by the perpetrator of this post.  It's all in great fun, and actually encouraged, often precipitated by my own words and deeds.  I thoroughly enjoy their funny and guileless behavior.  Cards and letters, Email as well, may be sent in care of this medium, anytime!  2.)  No pelicans or other creatures were harmed in the making of this blog posting.  Thank You! 

(Special Note of Attribution and Gratitude:   The perpetrator of this blog extends unending thanks to our beautiful, talented and endlessly creative grandchildren, without whose support and silliness this writing would not have been possible:  C, age 11, almost 12; S, age 7, more than almost 8; L, age 7, age 8 in fewer than four months; S, age 5-1/2!  B and P, among many others, of course, are enormously grateful every day of our lives to have them in our lives!!)

Humbly Submitted 07-18-15 -- Joel K.

                





             

       

   

Grandparenting, or "Be the Helicopter..."

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    Grandparenting, or "Be the Helicopter" and Other Personae Dramatis!

In late summer, some 11 years ago, we first assumed the roles of grandparents, my wife and I.  It has been a truly remarkable and loving experience, but not without its challenges.  We now have four beautiful grandchildren, each with his or her own astonishing personality and behavioral characteristics.  

Coen (foreground) and Seany
(wearing glasses)  examine gifts during
Coey's 11th birthday celebration!

The first of them, Coen -- I call him Coey -- adopted an expression that we find irresistible, and use ourselves, constantly:  "Not Doin' It."  A laconic expression -- sometimes but not always effective -- relating to something that merits one's reluctance or disaffection.  Coen has been fascinated, variously, with volcanoes, planets, caves, electronic game creations and their odd beeping and pulsing...  He has become an accomplished juggler, a self-taught diversion learned recently at a camping-concert event in West Virginia!  

His sister, Lucy -- often we call her LuLu -- now almost 7 years old, invented her own delightful remonstrance:  "It's good, but it's not the best!"  On trips in the automobile, Lucy offers us three choices:  "...Play 'I Spy', or you may sing a song, or you can tell a story."  She challenges us to flex our creativity, all the time!  Coey and Lucy are the extraordinary and brilliant issue of our own first-born.  They are bright and funny, at times disarming, surprising, always delightful companions.

Lucy and Papa in an
inflatable tube.  Earlier
we played in Lake Erie!

Lucy (left) and Coey at Sea!
(Uh...  maybe Lake Michigan?!)

Our second-born produced two equally accomplished and beautiful children, ages 7 and 4 (the latter nearly 5).  Sean -- I call him Seany -- is the older of the pair.  In his pre-school era, my wife and I would report to his home in the middle of the night (about 6:30 or 7:00 AM) and perform childcare and play activities prior to school drop-off time, enabling his educator parents to get to their respective classrooms at an hour their contracts demanded.  On many of those occasions, Seany would stand on my feet, facing frontwards, instruct me to position my hands in a certain fashion, and then announce that I was to be his helicopter.  "Up, helicopter," he'd command...  

I would then ambulate for the two of us, following the path in which my hands and fingers -- the craft's "controls" -- were wrenched, um...  that is, directed.  We'd climb several stairs to his bedroom and I'd then be placed in his closet, the hanger.  If I chanced to inquire, "How long must I remain in the 'hanger'?"  The answer arrived quickly:  "Shush, Papa...  Quiet! Helicopters don't talk."  And he'd shut the "hanger's" louvered doors until the helicopter was next required.

Phia (Sophia) is older now, but
this picture of her is a favorite!

For granddaughter, Sophia -- she prefers Phia or Phi Phi...  Angel Face is also acceptable -- both my wife and I are frequently engaged in play pageants.  We become water tigers, water squirrels, parental mice, doggies, kitty cats, dolphins and other creatures.  We're instructed as to the rules and progression of play, often asked to comment on the hatching of a little water squirrel's egg.  Apparently all creatures begin as eggs, usually quite shiny, purple and pink ones!

For Coey and Lucy, we've enjoyed soccer and baseball games for the former, dance recitals for the latter, in addition to swim lessons, coaster-wagon-pulling walks to the coffee house for cinnamon rolls (the children), coffee ("Baba and Papa").  There have been some most enjoyable travel holidays as well, including trips to sunny beaches, islands, a windmill house, a giraffe, bison and goat sanctuary...  

The July 3rd Fireworks Family
Picnic is a fine opportunity to
 sit on Papa and choke him!

Seany is an accomplished soccer player, a star among his peers.  He currently plays in a much vaunted club league.  We attend lots of matches, and have done so through the years.  Phia is just beginning to discover her interests, and has participated in "itty bitty" soccer; whether she'll continue or gravitate to other sporting or artistic pursuits remains to be determined.

And, oh yes, we have a sweet cousin who owns a condo in Florida that she generously allows us to use in the off-season at most attractive "family" rate.  When we're there, I become a kind of elevator for the grandchildren, conveying them to the bottom of the pool and up again.  Sometimes I'm a submarine...  Sometimes I'm gasping for air! 

Don't know what those things are in
my ears, but apparently we bought
them for two of the grandkids!
(But no help with noise abatement!)

In all of its eclectic roles and incarnations, grandparentlng is an exhilarating, exhausting, perplexing, delightful, even sort of mystical labor of great joy and loving wonder.  

Seany (left) and Phi Phi become
cows at the Wisconsin State Fair!

We're reliably told a child's fascination, even adoration of a grandparent is an ephemeral experience, as age 12 or so marks the end of the magic, when grandchildren's peers begin to dominate both time and energy.  But, we're also reliably told that when the "age of the amusement park" ends for a grandparent, another, a more cerebral interrelationship era, begins.  Ah, well...  However these things play out, we look forward to the next chapter in the book of grandparenting.  "What's that?"  Sorry, have to dash...  Lucy's calling; she wants to count to 1,000 for us before we hear her read a chapter from Beezus and Ramona!