It has come to my attention that there's some funny business going on around here.
For this school year, my Father has volunteered to pick up Rowan once a week from school. He lives right around the corner from her school. So it didn't bother me when he said he was going to need a booster seat for the Papa truck, the pink one, not the brown one. Pink seat, not pink truck. His truck is silver.
Now, he comes to see me at the farmer's market every week. It's a mixed blessing. It's good to converse but not about putting the old ladies in his apartment complex into slavery crocheting hats for me. It's also not good to come see me and let everyone know he's arrived by hitting the metal pole with his truck. Don't worry, the truck barely goes over 5 miles an hour...downhill. He is the slowest driver on Earth.
I thought it was cute that he came to see Rowan and they would do a little handshake and she would say, "I love you Papa." And he would say, "oh that's nice." My dad does not say I love you to anyone. And he gave her money. I know. Shock and Awe. The dude didn't run his air conditioner ALL SUMMER. AT. ALL. In Texas.
Anyway, Jace casually mentions this final nail in the coffin evidence to me. He went to pick up Rowan, who by some unseen force is sitting on the floor quietly coloring and my dad is reading a magazine. But on the counter there is a small plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into perfect little squares. With no crusts....Let it sink in. I may need therapy for this. For you see, growing up with my dad was not crustless square tea sandwiches. The sandwich was made with both ends of the bread. The whole sandwich was a big crust. What is this guy doing?
I'll tell you what he's doing. He's turned into a semi-sweet old guy with a secret handshake and secret tea parties. It's very sweet to see Rowan get excited that she'll get to see Papa. I have a slight smile on my face that she has this relationship, but I'm left to ponder why he didn't do these things when I was growing up. And I have acceptance that that's how the parent-grandparent transition works. I will probably do the same.
But crustless sandwiches? Really, dad...
My mom lets Grace help her cook. In the kitchen. With ingredients and utensils. When I was a kid, she would shoo me out of the kitchen and say all me "helping" did was create more work for her.
ReplyDeleteShe also lets Max roll around on the bed after it's been made.
I called her out on it. She said it's different when you're the nana.
But yeah, I'm with you on the wanting to know why she didn't do that stuff with me when I was a kid. Dammit.
When you are the parent, kids are work.... when you are the grandparent....it's PAYBACK:p
ReplyDeleteSounds like he was of the belief that you must be tough with your kids to make them strong but now realizes how much can be gained from being sweet. Glad Rowan gets to benefit from his new-found wisdom!
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