Comfort Zones

Our youngest grandbabies are here - Miranda, 7 and Danny, 4.  They're sweet and energetic, reinforcing the fact that raising children is work for young people.  Miranda is tiny (her nickname is Peanut), slender, agile and strong.  She is heavily into gymnastics and swimming.  Danny is sometimes headstrong and contrary, deviling his sister but often as not following her like a devoted puppy.  He is also athletic, beefier, likely to grow up a well-muscled jock.  I love them both and am glad when I see them.  But I'm also scared.

I don't know how to play.  I don't think I ever really knew how to play, even as a child; I was more of a watcher.  I watched other kids play, not joining unless asked and most often not asked.  I was never a boy scout and until high school, was not into sports; not much socialization.  So, when it comes to kids games I'm not creative enough to invent one and not comfortable playing any that are invented by the little people.

I am in awe of Carol and our daughter Wanda, of their ability to do both those things.  I relate much better to our three teenage grandkids.  I can hang with and talk with them and not be concerned about amusing them.  Maybe that's it, I only need to keep them safe, without the responsibility of amusing them.  

Being a watcher helps me as a writer but doesn't do me much good as a grandfather.