Wily Grandsons

          I'm technically a year older than when I posted my last blog.  I celebrated birthday number sixty-three this week.  My grandson Grant helped me to open my gifts.  He’s the older one, pictured below with his younger brother Luke, hiding out with their flashlight in an improvised indoor fortress we built when they visited some time ago.

     So when Grant was opening one of my gifts, a midget tootsie roll fell out from the package.  I love midget tootsie rolls, so along with my gift, I got a handful of them thrown in the gift bag for good measure.  “Twistie roll,” Grant said to me excitedly.  I told him to go ahead and eat the one he’d found.  But the others I slipped into a bigger bag while he wasn’t watching.  So I thought anyway.

     The next day I was organizing my gifts and I found just one midget tootsie roll.  My wife Wendy told me that she believed Grant had taken the others home.  What?!  How did he find them?  And when??   I was robbed by my own grandson and didn’t even know it.  Though he didn’t ask me if he could take the tootsie rolls, funny that he DID ask if he could borrow one of my monster movie DVDs.  That wily kid.

     Brother Luke is no slouch when it comes to figuring things his way.  We watch him one day a week and I took him to the children’s section of the library about a week ago.  He doesn’t care much for the books there, but they have toys, games, displays, puppets and plenty other things to entertain.  And he almost had the children’s area to himself.  There was just one young girl there who actually looked close to Luke’s age.

      These  pre-school girls often take a shine to Luke.  Not sure why but they often come over to play near where Luke’s hanging out whether it’s the makeshift puppet theatre or the puzzle table.   But Luke shows no interest in them and, in fact, will often pick up and leave when they get too close.  That’s what happened this day.  That cute little girl came over and began working on puzzles at the same long table where Luke was trying his luck.

     Then Luke up and left.  I felt bad for the little girl, just looking for a little friend to play with, so I decided to try a little psychology and stayed at the table myself while she worked her puzzle.  I made a few comments as if praising her effort.  Her own mother’s attention was divided among the girl, another infant, and the mom's smart phone, with the phone appearing to be getting the lion’s share of focus.

      I was hoping that Luke would become a little jealous of the attention I was showing the little girl and I was right.  He returned and began working the puzzles again.  Score one for grandpa.  Now to get them to play together.  Suddenly the little girl fell off the end of her bench seat, the puzzle pieces flying in every direction.

     “Oh,” I called out loud, genuinely startled.  She was down on the floor, unhurt, but I thought this would be a perfect opportunity for Luke to break the ice by coming over and gallantly inquiring if she was okay.

 

     Luke barely looked over.  “She’s fine,” he deadpanned, then turned back to his own puzzle.  I guess, score one for Luke.  It’ll probably take another decade or so before a damsel in distress can garner his attention.