Today I watched my grandson, and aside from having caught the cold that kept his nose bunked up all week, it was just another day. The challenge was trying to keep the boogies at bay considering his inability to blow his nose. Leo was on the upswing and getting a little energy back, while I was coming to terms with the fact I too had caught it.
I do that. I try to use psychology when I think I might be sick. I’m not sick if I don’t admit it. Today my optimism succumbed to reality.
Even my husband caught it. We watch him together, so it only stands to reason.
The living room is right outside my bedroom, so the transition between rooms is simply a sneeze across the thresh-hold. Wrapped in my fuzzy robe to stave off the chills, I sit down on a stool in front of the wood stove and continued surveillance over my seventeen-month-old charge.
Like any self-respecting grandparent, I like to brag a little on Facebook. The flip-side of this is that social networking likes to remind you of a year ago. A year ago it was easy. We just shifted Leo around the house in his carrier throughout the day, fed him, and changed diapers. Our routine went along like that for a while, but inevitably he became a little person with needs and wants.
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So here I sit a year later. I watch him maneuver about on the hardwood floor of the living room, and I see he is truly figuring out the nuances of being upright. I watch him curve his steps around a toy on the floor. He shifts to the left to avoid an end table, then backs up to survey where to turn next. He walks down the length of the living room, and turns around to flop down face-first into his oversized floor pillow.
I try not to remember, but I can’t help it. I’ve seen this before. Watched the first steps transition to a full run out the proverbial door. I didn’t know what I was seeing then. No-one does until the next generation shows us that it is human nature.
I watch Leo’s face, full of pride. With each successful turn and stride, I know what’s going on before he does. Today he discovered that his body can do more than he thought. Tomorrow he will realize that he is the master of his destination. The irony is that he won’t figure out what that destination is until he is my age.
I smile, because in my age and wisdom I know the secret. I’m not running off to the next big opportunity, or squeezing in overtime.
I’ve finally learned to sit and do today.