Two days ago, I posted a picture of my grandaughter Annie, along with a poem I wrote for her probably five years ago. So, today, I'd like to talk about my grandsons.
God has blessed me with five boys, ranging in age from twenty all the way down to five. They are all so different, and yet they have many things in common. Most important, they have all been baptized, and know the Lord, at least to some degree. They are polite, being raised by good parents, and they are way good looking. I wish I had pictures to show you, but they're not readily accessible, so picture words will have to do.
Once I took the oldest to a Renaissance Faire and pushed him around in his stroller throughout the day. When it was time to go home, I realized he had lost his "Precious Bunny," the well worn stuffed animal he insisted on bringing everywhere. He cried so much, and my heart was broken for him. A month later, a friend of my daughter, during a conversation about the incident, said that she had the identical bunny, and she would happily give it to her. So "Precious Bunny" was happily restored to Bobby, only this time he was clean. My daughter told him Bunny had gone to get cleaned up, and that's where he had been the whole time. When Bobby was a bit older, he loved working with me in my garden, especially when it was time to cut the rhubarb. Under my supervision, I allowed him to do the cutting with a large butcher knife, and when he had finished he stuck the knife in the ground with great emphasis, as if he were fighting a tiger. He inspired me to create five separate gardens, one for each of the grandchildren I had at the time. He, being the oldest, got special priviledges and had not only his flower garden, but also claimed the vegetable garden.
His brother was "the all right boy," so named because he was always agreeable to what any one of us requested him to do. And he would do it with a smile. The most tender memory I have of him is when once he told me, "Gramma, I love you with my whole heart." He loves to read, and reads very fast, mostly fantasy books. And although he reads so fast I can't believe he's done more than scan the book, upon request, he will tell the whole story in detail. A teacher tested him on this once.
And the youngest of my oldest daughter's children, Mickey, is passionate about baseball, and hopes to become a sports manager after finishing his education. Mickey didn't like me very much when he was little, and in fact, did not give me a kiss until he was three, at which time I bribed him with a Winnie-the-Pooh table and chair set with a sun umbrella attached to the chair. I have a picture of him at his beach party birthday, perched on a sand mountain, sitting at the table, legs crossed, looking like a three-year- old king.
I guess I've run on about them enough for now. I'll talk about my two younger grandsons next time. At the moment I have to go and pack for a weekend getaway at my friend's lake house, where I can relax and write, write, write.
Just a post note - I say prayers of thanksgiving every day for all my wonderful grandchildren. They are the greatest blessing of my life.