Posted on 07/17/2003 12:18:41 PM PDT by Sweet_Sunflower29
Yesterday marked an important milestone in my career as a grandfather. For the first time since her birth, I got to spend some quality time with my granddaughter alone.
It was great. Four hours and the cops never showed up once. Nobody called Child Welfare, Poison Control, or even the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Apparently, I have changed a lot since fatherhood.
Back then tending kids was easy. The three essential day-care items were cookies, a room with a lock on it, and plenty of duct tape, also known as "a roll of Texas baby-sitter." When they inquired whether I would be willing to tend Hallie for an afternoon, my wife and daughter probably figured that age (and probation) had slowed me down. It only made me sneakier.
Minding kids changes from father to grandfather. Most notable is the addition of another level of authority between you and the kid: his or her parents. Oh, the pride of ownership is still there, but technically someone else is the kid's boss.
This is good because any mistakes can be sent home with the child. Hey, if a district court judge can't keep you from teaching a small child how to use dynamite on gophers, what chance do Mom and Dad have?
Finally, the thing a grandfather knows that a father doesn't is that time is on your side. The corruption of a sweet, impressionable child does not have to be rushed.
They brought Hallie over before lunch looking like an angel. Her hair was brushed, her dress freshly laundered, her eyes clear of the effects of processed sugar.
Also delivered was a long pointless list of instructions on matters such as nap times, proper nutrition, and things to watch out for, including spiders, snakes, drain cleaner, loaded firearms and, who knows, probably Zulus. Hell, I didn't read it.
They brought diapers, which is all a baby-sitting grandfather really needs. In a pinch -- say if she gets fish guts all over her -- a 2-year-old girl can wear one of grandpa's T-shirts but not a pair of his boxer shorts.
As soon as authority left, I taught my granddaughter how to be a stone cold killer. We spent an hour spanking "bees," by her definition any and all bugs. We wiped out entire species.
When it was time for lunch, we chose rocky road ice cream and Nilla Wafers over grapes and grilled cheese sandwiches. But given authority's keen nose, we skipped a beer run.
After lunch, we were wired enough to invent a scary ride for the cat on the automatic garage door. Bob Valdez liked it until he spotted an open window.
After that, we made a high-speed mobile with Grandma's jewelry and a ceiling fan.
When things started to slow down, I asked if Hallie wanted to watch "Worlds Most Violent Bank Robberies" until it was time for her nap and she distinctly said, "Yes."
After the nap, I changed her diaper with barbecue tongs, and taught her to say "No way" if anyone should ever ask if we threw the diaper into the neighbor's yard.
Maybe I have changed. Parenting is so much easier the second time around.
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Pure, laugh-out-loud, hilarity. I love it!
This is a double whammy... ultra un-PC and it pis... errr irritates the humorless.
What better attraction could it have?
I gotta bump it a few times.
"Right honey, salad, uh huh... and slice some apples and kiwi to go with their boneless and skinless baked chicken? No problem.... yeah, love you too...click. ALRIGHT KIDS! SWEETIEPIE, YOU GET THE MACARONI & CHEESE AND YOU, BUDDY, DIG OUT THE ICE CREAM & CHOCOLATE SYRUP! WOOOHOOOOO!!!"
LOL! Duct tape leaves fingerprints.
Unfortunately for us parents, experience has bourne this out.
Wives never understand this stuff.
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