Just hearing those words
My grandson Adam turns three this week. He still lets me kiss his neck, but I know my days are numbered that he’ll allow such displays of unseemly grandmotherly affection.
As it is, I have to catch him before I can kiss him. He appears to be exceptionally busy at all times.
This afternoon I drove to West Seattle to visit Adam and baby sister Abby and their parents.
We all spent time on the deck in the warm early evening, the children playing with an assortment of riding toys and entertaining the adults, while Kierra, the family mastiff, sprawled nearby.
I stayed for dinner with the family and played a bit with Abby before her bedtime.
An hour or so before Adam’s bedtime, I gave him some birthday gifts.
He admired the racecar gift-wrap—and then demolished the paper in seconds, wadded it up and took it out to put it in the trash.
While I sat on the living room floor next to him, Adam looked through his new birthday books and decided in what order he wanted to hear them. That took a few minutes.
He chose to sit on the floor next to me while we read the first book together. After we read that one, he decided he’d prefer to sit on my lap while we read the other two books.
That suited me just fine, of course.
He arranged his bony little self on my lap and settled in to listen—and to keep up a running commentary.
We finished the three new books, and Adam immediately jumped up to go choose more books for us to read.
“Only two more,” suggested his mother. “Five,” he countered.
He eventually chose two more but immediately stacked them on the three new ones and then counted each book in the stack: one two three four FIVE.
We concluded the reading marathon with Adam’s final choice, “Good Night Moon,” which I guess is every young child’s favorite. Adam knew most of the words.
Few things my grandchildren ever do will please me more than their youthful affinity for books and reading.
Adam and his cousin Annika are off to a good start, and I’m betting Abby will love books, too.
I’ll continue to remind all three of them that they’ll never be really alone, as long as they have a good book.
Adam finally climbed off my lap, ready for me to help him put on his “hockey moose” pajamas and get ready for bed.
After we did that, I said my good-byes to the family and walked to my car.
I rolled the window down for one last wave, and pajama-clad Adam came running out of the house, toward the curb. Waving, he called out to me, “I love you! I love you very much!”
Isn’t it amazing that I never tire of that little boy’s sweet words to his grandma?
I smiled all the way home from West Seattle to Edmonds.