Laundry Can Wait!

Staring at assorted cartons of orange handled bristle brushes in Home Depot's paint aisle, I looked at grandson's thickly tousled, uncombed hair. By the time I changed, dressed, and changed him again, we were on the road, there was no time for primping or grooming.  The top of the brush was softer than I suspected and in a gut reaction I ran it over his sweet baby head, to joyful squeals of laughter.  He looked quite handsome.  Sheepishly I confessed to Husband, who was waiting patiently by the light bulbs, "I brushed Baby's hair with a scrub brush."

I am an imperfect grandparent.  I started out with high hopes; a do-over all parents look forward to with their grandchildren.  After all, we've already been there, we know the bumps in the road.  At least we think we do and we think we can do it better.

After Baby's most recent visit I found a clean 8 x 8 inch metal pan I use for baking brownies on the floor of Daughter's closet.  There can only be one suspect. I swear, I never take my eyes off him.

The rules for grand-parenting are different than parenting.  I would never let my children take a bath for no good reason in my shiny clean tub, at nine o'clock in the morning.  All Baby had to say was "bubbles, bubbles!" and the tub was instantaneously filled.

And most reason flies out the window when Mr. Blue Eyes bats his lashes and claps his chubby little baby hands together.  I would walk to the ends of the earth, swim the deepest oceans, just to see him smile.  And maybe that's the difference we grandparents experience.  Routines are out, work is put on hold and phone calls can wait, because we know from our experiences, as imperfect as they may be, that in the blink of an eye, babies won't be little forever but, laundry, that can always wait.