She came running to greet me with a big hug and a “Hi, Gampy!” Here was a 3rd-grader with big eyes and a big smile.
And here was her little brother, running up all excited, with a big hug and a big smile.
Right away, their parents proudly relayed the children’s exploits of late: catching fish, spotting various critters on the property, making things and wowing their teachers. The kids had waited for this day f-o-r-e-v-e-r, they said.
“I’m getting braces!” announced the girl. “Me, too!” said her brother. Both smiled big, and pointed to each thousand-dollar tooth that will be straightened.
Only yesterday, it seems, they were small and messy, drooling, learning to walk, and forming nonsense words. That was when their mother and father still had that deer-in-the-headlights look of first-time parenthood.
I’ve finally become comfortable with the label, “grandfather.” It still sounds foreign to my ear, but it is truly a joy. My, how they have grown!
Soon, the sullen years of teenhood will be upon us all, and there will be the attendant wringing of hands, late-night phone calls, arguments, woe and worry.
Happily, my wife and I are beyond that. And these little people — so wide-eyed and full of energy — are evidence that, despite all the mistakes we made with our own son, he seems to have turned out okay.
And that guy looking back at me in the mirror is blessed to pronounce himself a grandfather.
Mark Watkins