The grandfather clause

There is often a period of time between the last day of a new mother’s maternity leave and the first day of childcare for the infant. At least that’s what both our daughters informed us for the past thirteen years. They said according to the “experts”, it is beneficial for newborns to spend several weeks with their grandparents to enhance their psychological and sociological growth, or some mumbo-jumbo like that. Who are we to argue with experts, so we grandparents agree to babysit these little bundles of joy.

About 2 months ago, we acquired our fourth grandchild and several more gray hairs. Speaking of gray hair, Facebook frequently posts a photo from years past, calling it a memory. Often, it’s a photo of me holding one of my other grandkids, and it’s hard to believe how many gray hairs I’ve accumulated over the past thirteen years. In a photo taken in 2010, you’d have to look hard to find any gray in my scalp. Four grandchildren later, I look like Grandfather Time. I don’t know what causes this physical transformation, but I suspect it has something to do with the vapors emanating from  poopy diapers piled high in our trash can.

Enough about my premature graying, let’s get back to baby sitting grandchildren. I love being a grandfather. It’s the best job I ever had. There’s always lots of fun and laughter when I’m playing with the grandkids, and sometime there’s a lot of aches and pain the day after playing with the grandkids. You won’t hear me complaining, but you might hear a groan as I try to get out of bed. My wife and daughters tell me I don’t have to play with the kids so much, but I tell them, “It’s my job”.

It’s my job to toss a football with my grandson or sit on the floor and try to put a puzzle together with my granddaughter. It’s my job to play Hide-and-Seek or Candyland for the umpteenth time. Thankfully I have a wife who doesn’t mind changing diapers, but it’s my job to haul the toxic waste to the dumpster.

Some grandfathers don’t have a chance to spend quality time with their grandchildren. Perhaps they live too far away, or maybe they aren’t physically able to play with the energetic young’uns. Luckily, my grandchildren live within walking distance from our house, and my knees and my back are still in decent shape. My grandkids keep me active and young at heart.

Sometimes I wonder if other grandfathers carry on like I do. I don’t think there’s a manual on how to be a fun grandfather. I learned some stuff from my dad and a few things from my own grandfather, but I mostly learned this trade by on-the-job training.

I make sure there are new Halloween decorations on display every year. I have watched three of my grandchildren participate in countless sporting events, dance recitals and musical performances, and I expect there will be many more.

I have been instructed by a granddaughter on the proper use of skin care products, and I have had make-up applied to enhance my rugged facial appearance. I have attended a classroom where my granddaughter was a no-nonsense teacher, and yes, I spent several minutes in Time-out. I have ordered enough plastic food from their restaurants to feed an army.

My ranch truck has a few more dents and scratches from letting under-aged drivers steer Old Bullet through the back woods. A hunting blind was transformed into a kids’ clubhouse. I’m not complaining. It’s just part of the job.

I could go on and on reciting the joys of being a grandfather, but today is our day to babysit, and I detect a stench permeating from the trashcan. I don’t know how something so small and adorable can produce something so noxious that all the skunks on our property have moved up north.