Yesterday, after work, (I’m old so, besides writing stuff, I have a part time job in the cafeteria of a local high school. Yeah, I collect lunch money and maintain the condiment table and drink cooler. Actually, it is a lot of fun and a diversion from the mundane. Dealing with extremely “smart and wisdom laden” teenagers is very educational—trust me). Anyway, after work I headed to the dentist because the day before I had four teeth extracted and they wanted to make sure I had stopped crying and could still speak. I had and I could. Onward and forward to “Kid’s Planet” (good name because it is OUT there), my grandson, Tyler’s, day care center to pick him up and bring him home so the wife and I might experience the joys of grandparenting.
When I arrive at Kid’s Planet the first thing I must do is follow procedure and turn off my cell phone. Then you open the gate with the latch six feet off the ground (like a little kid couldn’t climb a chain link fence and open it) and enter into the “other planet”. Now, I have picked up Tyler numerous times and when he sees me he immediately runs to me yelling, “Grandpa! Grandpa!” All of the “teachers” know me too. So, the first thing they do is ask me for my ID and ask who I am. I don’t get it? I’m the grandpa so I should be the senile one, right? Plus, they are wearing out my license. The sides are peeling back. But, we are in the SAFE 21st century, and everything is done for our benefit. So, I cooperate and sign in. Identification confirmed, I sign out.
I bring Tyler home and he is wired. He is reminding me of “Slippery Willie” because, in the car, he slipped out of his seat belt nine times and slid onto the floor three times. I, too, am now wired. My poor wife, feeling the side effects of chemotherapy, (she wanted to see the little guy–don’t blame me. I did promise I would take care of him) is in the lounge chair with this expression on her face like she had come from another “planet”. I assume that Tyler is not cheering her up as she thought he would. So, I decide to feed the kid to quiet him down. “Want something to eat, Tyler”
“Bread and jelly.”
“Bread and jelly.”
So, I fix it for him and he takes one bite and disappears under the dining room table. “C’mon out from there. Eat your bread and jelly.”‘
Silence—he’s playing with the electric outlet. “Don’t do that. You’ll get a shock.”
Woosh—he is out from under the table and down the hall into the back bedroom. Kaplunk—kaplunk—kaplunk—he is jumping on the bed. I search for my tranquilizer gun but I cannot find it. Dang–“Stop jumping, you’re going to fall.”
He promptly obeys and, with his last jump, flies off the bed and smashes into the wall. He is unhurt but screaming like someone is killing him or something.
And so it went. Just another fun Friday with one of the grandkids. Daughter came by a few hours later and shared how frazzled she was and what a horrendous day it had been. I gave her a hug and said, “Awwww—poor baby. Want some bread and jelly?”