Back At It - I Think I'll blog again

Hmm...it's been so long I'm not sure I remember how.

I rarely buy newspapers. Hubby reads the news online and watches it on television. I just try to avoid it. However, today I felt sorry for the man standing on the corner in the hot sun trying to get rid of his papers.  I was on the way to do some Saturday work in my office and had my youngest granddaughter with me. She's eight now.  I told her she could read the comics while she waited for me. "What are comics?" she asked. "They are like cartoons on paper," was my answer.  "Oh, that's the part Papaw reads," she replied. (He'll be so happy to know I posted this).  I laughed. "Well, he does," she said.

Her first dose of comic humor moved her to write 'LOL' on all her favorite parts. On the drive home she asked if she could read one of the strips to me. It went like this - "I met a girl last night." "Really? Who?" "She's a roadie for some rock band." "D'you do anything?" "We made out." (by this time it's clicking in my brain that this may not be appropriate reading for her) "You made out? Wow, she must kiss anyone." (LOL above this line) "She does actually.  I found out about her past later."  "Well, give me her number." (It goes on but I won't - now I remember one of the reasons I don't read newspapers much).

Decisions, Decisions

It seems like the best one-on-one conversations I have with my grandchildren occur in the car. Perhaps it’s because I’m a captive audience or maybe it’s just that I’m less distracted by the outside world. Whatever the reason, I’m really tuned in to what they are saying when it’s just the two of us driving down the road. This is especially true when it comes to my soon to be five-year old granddaughter, who seems to enjoy chattering away in the back seat (or singing).

One day last week, she said with all intensity and seriousness, “Tomorrow, I’m going to make up my mind what I’m going to be when I grow up. Today is the last day I’m going to think about it.” Honestly, you would have thought this was an urgent decision that was weighing heavily on her mind. A few days later I asked her what she decided about her career choice. She answered, “I’m going to be a McDonald’s Lady.” I’m not knocking all the wonderful people who work at McDonald’s but I think all those chicken nuggets have gone to her head. Not to worry though. When her Aunt Sarah was her age, she wanted to be a clown.

First Date

“Did you know I have a Valentine, Grandma?” my ten year old grandson asked me as I drove him to school. “Oh, and who is it?” I asked. “It’s a girl from Me-maw’s church,” he answered. “She’s eleven.” I couldn’t help but tease a little, “An older woman, huh?” He ignored me. “Do you know what it means to have a Valentine?” “Well, I think so,” I smiled, “but why don’t you tell me what you think it means.” “It means I have a girlfriend.” “Don’t you think you might be a little young to have a girlfriend,” I replied. “No, I’m getting to be the age when you start thinking of things like that.” “Oh, boy,” I think to myself but answer, “I suppose so.” “Do you know what we are going to do for our first date?” he continued. “We are going to the skating rink for Christian night on March.” “That sounds like fun,” I say, trying not to cringe at the words ‘first date.’ He then asks, “Do you think I could do some chores for you so I can earn some money to buy her a coke or something?” That really threw me off-guard but I remained calm. “Yes,” I replied. “If you want to earn some money to buy her a coke, I think I can find something for you to do.”

I am so not ready for this ! He’s only 10! But at least he will be skating to Christian music with a church girl. But still…(sigh).

Self-Defense

On her way home from school, my thirteen year old granddaughter came upon a crowd of students whose paths were blocked by a couple of boys in pre-fight mode, shouting obscenities at each other. After a few minutes, tired of the wait and the trash talk, she decided to walk between them and be on her way. At precisely the same time one of the boys decided to throw a punch at the other. The punch, however, was headed straight toward my precious grandchild. Without thinking, she blocked the punch and automatically counterpunched. The kid she punched was a head taller than her but he was on his backside with a bloody nose. After a second of stunned silence, the boys and the crowd started expressing their amazement with words such as “Holy S#@#.” My granddaughter, in shock herself, went on her way. As she passed the boy who was the intended target, she winked and said, “I forgot to mention that I’m a black belt.”

As usual, I asked her how her day at school went (I’m the after-school care-taker for my grandchildren). “It was okay until the end,” she answered and proceeded to tell me her story. “It all happened so fast,” she reflected. “I didn’t even think about it until I was delivering the punch. I pulled back a little when I realized what was happening. I didn’t want to hurt him.” She held up her fist, twisting it around, examining it in wonder. “And I didn’t even hurt my hand!” I couldn’t help but burst out in laughter. Her ten-year old brother was also very impressed.

My amusement quickly turned to concern. I thought to myself, “I hope she didn’t break his nose and I hope she doesn’t get into trouble.” I told her to call her parents and let them know what happened in case they got a call from the school. I also worried that the boy she punched would want revenge. When I voiced that concern to my hubby, he pointed out she could take care of herself. I’m relieved to say that all is well. The boy went back to school without a broken nose and after a week, still isn’t bothering her. And, thankfully, we haven’t heard from the school or his parents. This evening she will be testing for Level 3, 1st Degree Black Belt in Taekwondo. And I will be watching.

Mistakes

As we sat in the line to drop her off at pre-school, my four-year old granddaughter realized she didn't have her school bag. "Well, we just have to go back and get it, then," I merely said as I eased out of the line. Thankfully, we were a little early and I felt absolutely no pressure or aggrivation. My granddaughter, however, was quick to blame me for the forgotten bag. I pointed out that making sure she had her school bag was her responsibility, not mine. She switched from blaming to making an excuse. "Well, I didn't see it!" Still very calm, I replied, "You made a mistake. It's okay to make mistakes, we don't have to blame and make excuses." "Oh," she remarked. "No one told me that."