My lovely wife was really excited: "I've lost five pounds!" she exclaimed, "I think its from babysitting Grant!". Naturally, this declaration got grandpa's creative juices flowing. Everybody and their mother is coming out with some new-fangled method for dropping weight and toning up. Why not me?
Achieving Maximum Cardiovascular Results Through Chasing An Eight Month Old:
Elderly grandparents will need to begin doing this exercise extremely slowly. Using mainly your semi-atrophied thigh muscles, start by hunching over and having the child firmly grasp your index fingers with their tiny dried oatmeal/snot encrusted palms. As the young one careens off like a small drunken sailor through his parents home, be careful not to let his soft little cranium bounce off the innumerable sharp surfaces of objects which seem to be everywhere. Remember: Breath deeply, start slowly - you both need to make it through this.
After a few weeks of chasing and in spite of back muscles which seem to be encased in cement, grandparents should start to feel, well...tired. Actually, since your lung capacity will be greatly enhanced you will now see some results as you grunt, stoop over and weigh yourself ( you will be grunting due to the fact that your grandchild will be firmly clenched in your toned-up arms because you'll undoubtedly want to brag to your friends about how big the little bugger is getting). Lord knows, grandma can't get the kid to sit still long enough to step on the scales himself.
Since this book is still only in the developmental stages (just like young Grant), future chapters will be offered eventually, maybe after grandpa's nap. Meanwhile, grandma and I will continue laughing about different subjects such as taking inches off your thighs by pushing him around and around the living room floor as he sits laughing delightedly in a waist high cardboard box. Make sure you alternate legs however or else you will have one thigh looking like a drumstick and one that resembles a guided missile.
Before they develop those sharp, tiny chompers, grandchildren can also be extremely useful as skin softners. Begin this procedure by holding them up to your wrinkly facial features and oftentimes they will begin salivating and sucking on grandma's lotiony-smooth chinny, chin, chin. It can be very humorous to see the expression on their dear, dear faces when they accidentally latch on to grandpa's whisker-stub bled jaw. The benefits of laughter combined with massive amounts of love can be beneficial to everyone involved.
And even if grandpa never becomes a filthy rich, fabulously wealthy best selling author of instructional weight loss books, he hopes he will always have his beloved grandson(and future grand kids)as subjects. Just thinking about soon to be bicycle rides, kindergarten busses and yes, first dates to write about is enough to make him smile...and want to take his nap.
Nite, nite!!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
THE DAY BEFORE...9/11
Grandson Grant turned exactly eight months old on September 10th and I wonder what I will tell him someday about the horror that befell this country almost ten years ago.
When I was a child, the only things I had to be afraid of were neighborhood bullies, coming home after curfew or getting busted for occasionally lifting a candy bar or pack of smokes from the local neighborhood grocery store (Grant may or may not learn of this). Other than those worries, we played outside from dawn til dusk, rode our bicycles miles to a distant junior high school that had an indoor swimming pool and god forbid...hitch-hiked when we were absolutely beyond the aerobic capacity of teenagers who smoked (see previous reference to shoplifting).
Yesterday,as Grant clutched my index fingers, toddling barefoot like a tiny drunken soldier through the soft green grass in our backyard, it was easy for this aging grandfather to wonder what is in store for his grandson. Will there someday be a tragedy that will be seared into his consciousness as vividly as his grandfather's memories of September 11Th, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy or Martin Luther King Jr.? Does the fear of a next terror attack never end? Lord...for his innocent little sake, I hope the world one day comes to its senses again.
Tomorrow I will hoist Grant's khaki covered/diaper bottomed butt atop of my still sturdy shoulders and stroll down the paths of his pine-studded back yard. I will place his tiny fingers against the textures of tree bark, evergreen needles and wildflowers, knowing that while he is yet so innocent he will never have to worry about the bad stuff in this world.
And when he someday asks about all of these things, I hope grandpa will be able to explain them or maybe...just maybe...people will all have learned to forgive rather than to retaliate by then.
This is my prayer for September 11Th, 2011.
When I was a child, the only things I had to be afraid of were neighborhood bullies, coming home after curfew or getting busted for occasionally lifting a candy bar or pack of smokes from the local neighborhood grocery store (Grant may or may not learn of this). Other than those worries, we played outside from dawn til dusk, rode our bicycles miles to a distant junior high school that had an indoor swimming pool and god forbid...hitch-hiked when we were absolutely beyond the aerobic capacity of teenagers who smoked (see previous reference to shoplifting).
Yesterday,as Grant clutched my index fingers, toddling barefoot like a tiny drunken soldier through the soft green grass in our backyard, it was easy for this aging grandfather to wonder what is in store for his grandson. Will there someday be a tragedy that will be seared into his consciousness as vividly as his grandfather's memories of September 11Th, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy or Martin Luther King Jr.? Does the fear of a next terror attack never end? Lord...for his innocent little sake, I hope the world one day comes to its senses again.
Tomorrow I will hoist Grant's khaki covered/diaper bottomed butt atop of my still sturdy shoulders and stroll down the paths of his pine-studded back yard. I will place his tiny fingers against the textures of tree bark, evergreen needles and wildflowers, knowing that while he is yet so innocent he will never have to worry about the bad stuff in this world.
And when he someday asks about all of these things, I hope grandpa will be able to explain them or maybe...just maybe...people will all have learned to forgive rather than to retaliate by then.
This is my prayer for September 11Th, 2011.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
When Babies Have Babies...
I was out watering the grass and attempting to plant some tomatoes when my "little" boy stopped by on the way down to his buddies house for an afternoon/night of partying. Along with his cooler, dog and snacking supplies, he toted the most important cargo of all...his baby son, Grant.
Has it really been a shade over 36 years since I lugged his once tiny butt to get-togethers with my own friends? After the birth of his baby when he was bemoaning the lack of personal time he now faced, I told him that some of the best times I ever had were when my friends stopped by with their own young children. We would get a six-pack of beer, plug in the Atari game (if you know what Atari is - you're out of date too) and watch our children amuse each other. As soon as he got big enough, I buckled him into the bike seat on the back of daddy's bike and he went everywhere with me.
One of the things I love the best about having a grandson is the chance to really, really appreciate all over again the sweet innocence of him. There is absolutely nothing as enjoyable as having that warm, trusting little body falling asleep in the crook of my arm after he has feasted on his bottle. It makes my heart ache with joy when he "wrestles" with Grandpa, shrieking and chirping like a tiny birdie when I get right in his soft, milky-smelling neck and growl like an elderly bear.
It has been so many years since I was able to do these things with my own "baby" that I had forgotten what it felt like to hold him. If I tried this now, there would surely be a hernia of some type in my future. All in all, it makes me look at him with a fuller sense of love because I know in my heart now, his own beautiful baby boy will make him an even better...man.
Thanks, son.
Love, Dad.
Has it really been a shade over 36 years since I lugged his once tiny butt to get-togethers with my own friends? After the birth of his baby when he was bemoaning the lack of personal time he now faced, I told him that some of the best times I ever had were when my friends stopped by with their own young children. We would get a six-pack of beer, plug in the Atari game (if you know what Atari is - you're out of date too) and watch our children amuse each other. As soon as he got big enough, I buckled him into the bike seat on the back of daddy's bike and he went everywhere with me.
One of the things I love the best about having a grandson is the chance to really, really appreciate all over again the sweet innocence of him. There is absolutely nothing as enjoyable as having that warm, trusting little body falling asleep in the crook of my arm after he has feasted on his bottle. It makes my heart ache with joy when he "wrestles" with Grandpa, shrieking and chirping like a tiny birdie when I get right in his soft, milky-smelling neck and growl like an elderly bear.
It has been so many years since I was able to do these things with my own "baby" that I had forgotten what it felt like to hold him. If I tried this now, there would surely be a hernia of some type in my future. All in all, it makes me look at him with a fuller sense of love because I know in my heart now, his own beautiful baby boy will make him an even better...man.
Thanks, son.
Love, Dad.
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