My folks have been visiting for the past week, which means the computer room/guest room has been otherwise occupied. Lots of good stories to catch up on, but watching my parents with Samson made me realize why grandparents love grandchildren, particularly very young ones, so much.
They offer a kind of passage backwards in time, offering all the joys of being a new parent without all the anxiety and sleep-deprivation. Watch a grandfather or grandmother with a very little child and you can almost see them when they were younger. For my folks at least, the house has been emptied of kids for years now, and while I certainly don't think they'd trade their routine for ours, I think I can safely say they had a blast chasing him around the house.
Vicki and I were talking last night after I dropped my parents off at the airport about how lucky we are. I hope we never take for granted the wonder of looking into those wide blue eyes, the joy of hearing his tiny giggle in the house, or the simple pleasure of sitting with a little person who, while not a blank slate, is not yet old enough to be anything other than honest [whether this means taking something he wants or burping loudly and without embarrassment].
We know we live in a kind of magic circle right now, where every day brings some new word or discovery. Our house is noisy and toy-bestrewn and crumb-laden, and I wouldn't change it for the world.
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