So far, I have had at least a limited amount of success at holding myself back from becoming one of THOSE grandparents. You know the kind I mean...always wanting to show you the latest pictures and tell you the latest Unbelievably Cute thing their grandchild has done:
"He looked at me and smiled. Isn't that aMAYzing?!!?"
But I must confess to a bit of pride at having the absolutely cutest child ever born as a grandson. And I kid you not, no one I have ever said that to has disagreed with me. People have been known to develop instantaneous cavities just by looking at pictures of him...he is THAT sweet. He's got a supply of t-shirts that he's required to wear whenever AngelFace and TheRelentlessOne (I'll have to explain that sometime, I reckon.) take SkittleKid into public: "WARNING: May aggravate cases of borderline diabetes."
But the real reason I've been holding back isn't because I'm all that empathetic toward the general population that would be bored to tears to read about my grandson. It's because the things that have caused the most laughter just don't translate all that well to the written word.
Take last weekend for instance.
The family was gathered for a dinner celebrating the birthdays of Beloved and AngelFace. The food was good and SkittleKid was having fun crawling around on the floor, competing with Edgar the RatDog for table scraps.
At some point, SkittleKid took off as fast as his hands and knees could take him and bonked his forehead on the crosspiece that connects two of the table's legs. At the time, we all thought that was the funniest thing since kangaroos on a trampoline, but writing it down like this, it just sounds cruel for us to have been guffawing.
Yeah...I need to just keep the joys of grandparenting to myself.
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