Our trip to Brooklyn a couple weekends ago was partly a gift for Rider’s father (he turned 27 that day) but mostly, naturally, another opportunity for Rider’s grandmother and me to spend time with our dear, sweet grandtyke. Tending Rider and their business is a time and a half job for his parents. There are not enough hours in the day for them to do all they need to do, let alone spend a few hours together, so they always welcome the opportunity to do that, and we welcome any time with our grandson. Everybody is happy. And besides, Rider’s mom had planned a birthday party for his dad and had invited some friends. Not long after we arrived they departed and we spent an afternoon and evening with Rider.
When we were parents of three small children and, say, my wife had to be gone for the evening leaving me with the kids, I never considered myself babysitting them. I fathered my children. Just so with Rider. We grandparented our grandson. We weren’t the hired hands slogging through a task but, just one generation removed from being his parents, we cared for him in the only way loving grandparents can. And for the next seven or so hours (let me be frank about the experience), we had a great time with the child.
We arrived to find the little man-child standing on his own for a few seconds at a time, and even, when his one-year old sense of reality wasn’t telling him he needed to hold on to someone’s hands to walk, take two, three and (brilliantly) four steps on his own. While his parents were still there we took pictures and videos of the gifted child performing this miraculous feat.
For the first hour or so with Rider, we spent time playing. We are fascinated by what an attentive, observant, curious, outgoing child he is. We made up a game in which we put a small plastic toy into a lidded compartment on a short tabletop toddler toy. Over and over again he opened the lid and handed the toy to one of us while the other replaced it with another of a different color. After more play and skyping with his Aunt K, we got things together (changing venue with a baby is always a production) for a walk in the neighborhood. I love pushing Rider in a stroller, walking along with my wife, wondering what passersby are thinking. (Is that dashing couple his youthful grandparents or his slightly older parents?) As we approached the playground, Rider squealed with anticipation and excitement, recognizing where we were going. He isn’t quite old enough to run around with the other children, but he loved watching them play while we pushed him on the swing.
After the park, after walking up and down more brownstone house-lined Brooklyn streets, we stopped for food at the Kimchi Grill for Korean beef and kimchi with lettuce and Korean pickles, a sort of Chosun Chef’s salad. We set Rider up with Cheerios (and shared some of the beef) like we were old pros at this. We are! I’m pretty sure parenting a little one is like riding a bike or typing: you don’t really forget how to do it, though you may lose a little of the stamina that 24-hour childcare requires.
Then more walking and home, finally, for a little more playing, supper for Rider, a bath and, at last, bed. Each activity with our grandson, each thing we did was fun, was pleasant. And even as he started to get very tired and clearly ready for bed, he kept his good humor, partly his determination to play and watch and experience as much as possible and partly because (and I’m not at all biased here) he is simply a good-natured, happy boy.