A Grandpop in Training
Senior Moments by
Charles P. Eberson
I have been a grandfather for nearly seven years and am blessed with three of those little darlings. My wife is gifted when it comes to children of any age including me, at times however, I soon learned that raising children is a perishable skill and one I have not used in decades. Since my wife was still working, I was pressed into babysitting duties for my first grandson. There was little to do besides keep an eye on him, put him down for a nap and change him when necessary. This is when I rediscovered my gag reflex.
Oh, the memories. Three years later, a granddaughter came into our world and babysitting became more demanding. My main concern was presenting the infant back to her parents in the same working order as when they left. This was more difficult than it would seem. My grandson was so affectionate, I was concerned he was going to hug the life out of his sister, so I was extra vigilant while still coping with radioactive diapers. Where are the wipes again?
Time passed as my grandson realized the fragile nature of the baby but this didn’t keep me from having to protect her from whooshing light sabers and hurling model aircraft. My eyes nervously glanced at the clock while awaiting my relief. I was exhausted.
Two years later, we were blessed with another granddaughter which makes three children in the family. We were outnumbered but gratefully my wife came out of the bullpen and I was relegated to a supporting role. Now our grandson is almost seven years of age and the granddaughters four and two. It was a dream come true to have them spend the night recently although things didn’t go as planned.
I was totally unprepared for the mayhem at the dinner table with the children acting like they were sitting on hot coals and the waterfall of food cascading onto the floor. With my wife at the helm, bath time was a calming time for them. The warm water and bath toys relaxed and quieted them at least temporarily. We settled into the living room for some quiet time before bed.
I didn’t realize that my son likes to wrestle with our four-year-old granddaughter and taught her some rather advanced moves. I was sitting on the edge of the sofa when she leapt from the back of the sofa onto the back of my head. I felt a crack that I have only heard after paying my chiropractor a handsome deductible and knew another visit was inevitable. She was sternly scolded, started crying and called me “Bad Pop Pop.”
Soon we were all tucked in for the night. Shortly thereafter, my grandson said he couldn’t sleep and asked if I could get into bed with him, which I did. Before long, we were both sound asleep. My peaceful slumber ended abruptly by my grandson’s perfectly executed axe kick landing in the worst possible location. I noticed that my loud grunt didn’t even stir him and the little cherub was still in the sweet embrace of a fitful slumber.
Come morning, all the children were fed, dressed and ready when their father picked them up. “How’d it go,” he asked? “No problem,” I replied. “They were all little angels.” “Great, we’ll have to do this again,” he said. “I can’t wait,” I answered.
Charles Eberson has been in the newspaper business for over 25 years. He has worked as a writer, advertising executive, circulation manager and photographer. His photography can be viewed at www.charles-eberson.fineartamerica.com
