I like kids. I always have. I probably always will. The first "kid" I remember liking was my "little" cousin, Timmy. I was probably all of about 8 or 9, when I learned to appreciate funny little things he'd say or do and loved it when he'd come sit on my lap. Granted I was probably only about five years older than him, but I FELT like the big kid!
My love for kids only grew as I began having nieces and nephews. I was only twelve when my oldest nephew was born and I was so proud when I got to walk him around the block in his baby buggy. Dan and his little sister Gail lived downstairs from us and they were an integral part of my life all through my teenage years and every Saturday morning I could count on them begging "Dew-o" to make them French Toast while their mom slept in. And everyday after I got home from school, I could count on them running up the stairs, jumping on the couch and hollering "DooDooDoo" and "Bah, Bah, Bah" which translated into "Lookin' Out My Back Door" and "Tracy," their two favorite 45 rpm records.
And then there was Todd, my nephew from Bill's family, who was much more solemn than Dan or Gail, but very intelligent. He picked out my beagle mix puppy for me and initially named her Shoes. And he liked "Hanrahan" Lincoln (aka Abraham) and went "I-night" and only liked macaroni and cheese without the cheese. And then his adorable little sister, Kirsten, who loved to hear stories about Babar the elephant and loved "babitz" (babies).
Nothing is greater than kids. It's why I wanted to become a teacher. Well, that and then I could write on the chalkboard whenever I wanted AND I could use a red pen and write on everyone's homework. And then eventually I had my own kids and spent as much time as I possibly could with them and now I have grandkids!!!! And they're the greatest kids of all!
So what brought about this post? Just some observations in church yesterday. A young mother was sitting in the row in front of me with her three young children. Her husband is in our bishopric, so he was sitting on the stand. At the beginning of our Easter service, the oldest boy in this family was called upon to go to the front and sing a special Easter duet with another little boy. What an awesome job they did! Stumbled on a few words along the way; not always on key, but what troopers! They reminded me of my kids and what troopers they always were at singing in church or school programs.
Sorry. I digress. Anyway, after the song, the little boy got to sit with his dad on the stand through the rest of the service, leaving "mom" with the little girl and little brother. Shortly, I saw the little girl get out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. She kept shaking the bottle and squirting and shaking and squirting and then she had to try to close the bottle with the nasty goop all over her hands. (Yes, I said nasty goop. I can't stand lotion or sanitizer. Nasty stuff on my hands!) So, I'm watching her rub... and rub... and rub... and there's still excess goop. Suddenly I see "mom's" nose twitch, and get a foul look on her face and then she looked over at her daughter and realized there was goop all over her daughter's arms. Sorry. I couldn't help but laugh.
So, mom eventually gets all the goop used up, after rubbing some of the excess on herself and little brother. Then, she decided little brother had had enough snacks for one hour and let him get out his matchbox car, which he decides to drive all over his mother. I don't know if I had as much patience as this marvelous, young mother but I did recognize the "he's being quiet and not bothering anyone else so I'm gonna let this one slide" approach. Until, he decided it was a good idea for the car to go through a "tunnel," down the back of his mother's jumper!
What a hoot! She couldn't reach it, it fell down too far too fast. She certainly didn't want him reaching down her dress for it. She tried reaching around from her lower back and was doing a good job of pushing it back up until she had to get a different angle on her reach and it fell back down further than it was to begin with. Of course the three women who were sitting by me were no help... we all just sat there and giggled; recognizing her dilemma; knowing the easiest thing to do would be to just stand up and let it fall the rest of the way, but unable to do so without creating a scene while her husband sat on the stand and tried to figure out why she was wiggling and "junior" was giggling (along with all the women in the pew behind her!). Finally, one of my friends who was sitting closer to her did reach forward and work the delinquent car up until it worked it's way out the armhole!
So, why am I relating all of this on my blog? Just because watching this little family reminded me of how much joy I have always received from my own children's antics over the years (and the older they all get, the more amazed I am at all the "antics" I missed out on and they managed to keep secret from me!). But even better, is watching them try to parent their children as I see them do the things that I'm allowed to laugh at as a grandma. And the things I laugh at the most aren't necessarily funny. It's just that some of my grandchildren are just like their parent and I love watching my kids squirm as they figure out how to deal with it, now that the shoe is on the other foot. Megan has Cari, who is just like her. Sami has Andi, who is just like her (which is even more scary, since Sami is just like me). Brooks has Sloan. Brandon's and Barton's children are still a little young to pick out who might be most like them, although I do rather suspect Gray is going to be most like his dad. You always hear stories of mothers wishing a child just like them on their children. I never wished it on any of them, but I do rather enjoy watching the results.
But probably the best "kid story" I heard yesterday, Easter Sunday, came from Brandon who reported to me that Saturday night before bed, he read the story of the empty tomb to the kids in preparation for Easter morning. I was so proud of him, putting the emphasis on the Savior instead of the Easter Bunny. And then Brandon told me his oldest son, Krew's reaction to the story of Christ's resurrection:
"So Dad; does that mean Jesus is a zombie?"
I was amazed! "So how did you keep a straight face?"
"Well, Diedre kinda had to hit me to get me not to laugh."
"Ah. And how does Krew know about zombies?"
"Well, I like zombies so he knows about them."
"Uh huh. Well, lessons our children learn from us aren't always the lessons we want them to learn, are they????"
So, what do I love about kids? They're entertaining. They're innocent. They keep us young and keep us on our toes. They make us want to become better people. And most of all, they keep us humble.
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