Today, we get to visit my grandparents, the children’s great grandparents. We’re able to do that, albeit somewhat infrequently due to my lack of disciplined follow through, but, when we do, I’m always glad. Great grandparents?! How many children get to know theirs? Our olders have even had the opportunity to spend the night with my Dad’s folks, and been able to crawl up in the bed with my grandmother, when feeling a bit homesick in the middle of the night. A seven year old, and nearly 87 year old, sharing the same genes, name and bed. A great grandmother who’s seen history personally since 1919, made sandwiches with her Mom to get through the depression. A great grandfather that can recount his time at Iwo Jima, and days as a boy on horseback wandering fields by himself with a sack lunch and a .22. My other grandmother is not always with us, as dementia has really taken much of her since we lost her husband last year. But we know when we’re there, it is a good thing. And in time, the children will realize the richness of their visits, even if now, they’re not always so sure it’s fun.
So, what do we do all day? Sometimes, nearly nothing, sometimes paper animals, sometimes housework or math with sliced apples. And sometimes, history, personally.
