Grandchildren are a mixed bag of joy and fear.
The joys are a mixture of memory and anticipation. So much of what I see reminds me of when my children were small. I remember chasing my children and now get to chase my granddaughter. Her screams of joy are enough to wake the neighbors. We keep going until one of us gets worn down. Changing diapers is a time to develop new games. At least I don’t need to worry about getting squirted in the face. Feeding her breakfast is a daily treat. When she is in the mood she will settle down on my lap. She will at times condescend to give hugs. Every moment is cherished.
The fears also return. I remember when our children were young. I remember how often I wondered if the latest expression of Original Sin meant that all was lost. I remember wondering if I could return my son to the hospital and get a refund. I remember when there were threats that I could do nothing about and the feeling of helplessness.
I have the same concerns about my granddaughter. She is a free spirit and always in motion. I don’t think she will be a librarian, maybe a gardener. Meanwhile I am getting older. I am thankful that God has provided her with excellence in parenting, not to mention the fine grandparents.
And don’t forget the guardian angel on special assignment.
homo unius libri
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