People say becoming a grandparent is like falling in love. I never understood that until I became a grandmother. And then I understood it powerfully. I simply couldn’t get enough of those grand babies.
Facetime.
Real time.
Any time.
I thought about my grandkids constantly.
I gazed at their pictures obsessively.
I counted the days until I would see them once again.
And when I did see them again, I held them reverently, rocked them gently, sang to them, swaddled them, diapered them. Quite simply, they replaced television!
Our youngest batch of grandkids – ages 3 to 8 – visited us over the past weekend along with their parents, a friend of my kids and her son.
Like always, I posted my well-worn sign on the wicker chair on the front porch. (Welcome to the Crazy House of The Pastors.)
And as they crossed the threshold of my front door, I stridently reminded them of the HOUSE RULES:
They laughed uproariously – already at their young ages picking up my sarcasm and knowing intuitively that what their Nana was REALLY saying was:
SMILE AND LAUGH. HAVE FUN.
Within seconds, my usually pristine front foyer looked like this:
It had been many moons since I have had shoes to trip over when dashing through my front hall. And I couldn’t have been happier.
BUT I WASN’T SO HAPPY THE NEXT MORNING WHEN I WOKE UP TO THIS:
“Good morning, kiddos,” I exclaimed loudly.
No answer.
I tried again, speaking with more enthusiasm.
“Hello my dear darlings! What would you like for breakfast?” I asked in an even louder voice.
Silence.
I tried again. “Would you like French toast? How about pancakes smothered in maple syrup?
The four of them never looked up from their screens.
They were clearly and totally immersed in their electronic devices.
I approached them, pried the screens out of their very unwilling hands – their exclamations of surprise breaking the silence.
“Nana, what are you doing????? “
“Stop that Nana. Please!!”
But Nana didn’t stop. To their surprise (and mine), I held firm, I couldn’t bear to squander away this precious time.
“Go upstairs – and play,” I told them. That sounded kind of lame – even to my ears.
So I conjured up all my enthusiasm and continued: “I know what you can do!!!! Go back to the bedroom and build a fort! Your daddies used to do that ALL the time.”
“And,” I continued, “Guess what? You can sleep in the fort tonight!!!!”
I set the kitchen timer.
“Okay,” I commanded, “you’ve got 20 minutes. Let’s go!”
That seemed to strike a chord. The four of them embraced my idea with great ardor and eagerly climbed the stairs determined to build the best fort EVER.
I’d like to say the four of them embraced my idea with great ardor.
Not so. Reluctantly, with huge frowns on their faces, they climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom.
The timer went off and eagerly I bounded up the stairs- unsure of what I’d find.
As I got closer, I heard noises.
I heard laughter.
I heard extensive dialogue. – back and forth bantering, compromising, innovating.
And here is what I saw:
I was thrilled and complimented them – calling attention to their detailed construction.
Later that day, my two granddaughters and I drew pictures on my outdoor pavers with fat pieces of pastel chalk. And I made sure to tell them that every time I would gaze at our creations, I would think of them and remember the fun-filled time we had together.
I think I learned an important lesson this past weekend. Sometimes it’s okay to say “No” – to put our foot down – to give our grandkids the opportunity to embrace their creativity, their ingenuity, their imagination. – even when it appears that they don’t want to.
And I think they learned an important lesson too: There’s more to life than just screen time.
The whole gang left early the following morning. It took me quite a while to restore my guest bedroom to the pre-fort status, but it was well worth the effort.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
