Monday, June 10, 2013

Great Grandma

Over the weekend we took a trip to Williamsburg so Simon could meet his aunt and uncle and great grandmother.  My cousin and her two children were there as well, and everyone enjoyed meeting the little guy, but the highlight of the trip for me was seeing his face beam while in the arms of his great grandma, or GG.  Simon is her the 13th grandchild, and we had been dying to get up there so the two of them could meet.
As my little guy has grown sturdier—looking more like the Michelin man every day—I’ve loosened up considerably.  These days I’m fearless with my son and germs, setting him down on rest stop bathroom floors as I go about my business.  I also like to write random lies in blog post. Check.
But really, I’ve come a long way since my bubble days.
Still, stepping inside my Aunt and Uncle’s home, my daddy eyes swept the floors, scanned the shelves, and located all points of entry. The first alarm sounded at the sight of a tiny boxer puppy in the house, with razor sharp puppy teeth and a hankering for all things eye level, I clutched Simon close, well above the ankle biter’s striking distance. 
The second danger appeared in the form of two adorable little girls.  My cousin’s daughters are 3 and half and one and a half. And what do little adorable girls love more than anything?  Babies.  But really, I was fine…I handed Simon off to my Aunt and hovered around the cookies.
At some point in the afternoon my wife set Simon on a blanket spread out on the floor and the girls swarmed followed.  Touching and feeling, they began groping him as though he were a second hand cabbage patch kid.  I leaned forward from my place on the couch, craning my neck as I watched them tugging at the seams.  I remembered to smile… 
They grabbed his Nuk, rolling it around in their hands and dropping it on the carpet.  Just before the puppy snatched it, the nuk was jabbed back into his mouth as though plugging a bicycle tire. 
“Honey, grab the nuk.”  I said to my wife, pleasantly, my foot tapping like a jackhammer.
“They’re fine, it’s okay.” 
“Oh, I know, of course.”  I was sat back in my chair with the blood pressure of a Tea Party member fielding a call from the IRS.
The girls sang songs to Simon, their knees and elbows mere inches from his head. I shook off the visions of him being dragged under a table to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and stood up. 
“You guys have beer right?”
In reality, all was fine as my son remained safe and coddled, being passed around from my aunt to cousin to grandmother. We're thankful to have such good family nearby. We enjoyed a delicious dinner, dessert, and a hearty breakfast the next morning and were on the road after lunch on Sunday where I topped speeds of 56 mph on the intersate, arriving home safe and sound.

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