As I get things back to normal in this overly quiet house after having six of our eight grands (and their parents) all home for the weekend, I remember fondly a few years ago when I wrote the following story. Wonder what treasures I'll find this time?
ONE LAST CHEERIO
ONE LAST CHEERIO
It is Monday morning and I’m cleaning. Two little whirlwinds have spent the weekend with us. As a grandparent, I’ve learned that time is precious with little ones, so I don’t worry about a clean house while they are here. It’s funny how your priorities change when you become a grandparent.
Tyler is three going on twenty-one. He’s become a backseat driver.
“Be careful of those semis, Grandpa, they’re dangerous,” he warns. “Don’t drive too fast.”
His sister, Danielle, is 15 months old, doesn’t talk much but flirts her way into your heart. It was her first overnight stay, but I think Mom had more separation anxiety than Danielle. My son teases her. His perception is that his mother let him venture out easily, but then he was eager to go off with his grandparents, and didn’t look back to the woman shredding a tissue as the car drove off with its precious cargo.
His sister, Danielle, is 15 months old, doesn’t talk much but flirts her way into your heart. It was her first overnight stay, but I think Mom had more separation anxiety than Danielle. My son teases her. His perception is that his mother let him venture out easily, but then he was eager to go off with his grandparents, and didn’t look back to the woman shredding a tissue as the car drove off with its precious cargo.
Just before Tyler and Danielle’s visit, our youngest grandchild, Kotomi, came to stay a while. She’s only a year old, but she snacked on Cheerios, imbibed milk, and, just as efficiently as her cousins, spread toys all over the family room and into the kitchen.
After Kotomi’s visit, my husband graciously picked up the blocks, the musical toys, the balls and all the other entertaining elements of Grandma’s toy basket while I finished the kitchen cleanup. All too quickly the house was quiet and returned to its childless state. As we sat watching TV that night, I noticed a Cheerio under the coffee table. Reaching down, I picked it up, and then placed it in Bob’s hand.
“Missed one,” I said smiling. He held it for a moment between his thumb and forefinger and reminisced happily about our time with Kotomi.
My cleaning this morning includes wiping off fingerprints from the bay window in the kitchen where Tyler and Danielle watched the birds at the feeders outside. I smile as I recall Tyler’s exclamation, “There’s the ‘picker bird!”
I’m torn between the choice of having clean windows or having the visible reminder of the joy that was brought into our home by their visit. Clean windows win out this time and I spray them with window cleaner and wipe the fingerprint evidence from the panes of glass.
I look into the family room that still needs vacuuming. There is a trail of Cheerios from the sofa to the fireplace. I cannot bring myself to destroy all the evidence of their visit. When I finish cleaning today, I will leave one Cheerio on the rug—one Cheerio for Bob to find so we can sit and reminisce, and anticipate the next visit of the little whirlwinds that fill our hearts with delight.