We try to visit our grandchildren every two months. Last Saturday we got up at 5:00 a.m. to make a 7:15 plane that got us to them by 11:00 a.m.
That first sighting was, as it always is, surprising. Both boys had changed since we saw them at Thanksgiving. For the first time, we had an inkling of what eight-year-old Leo will look like as a teenager. And five-year-old Grady, destined to be an architect, was always building, whether traditional blocks or Legos or whatever he got his hands on. The highlight of the day came when we were alone with the kids while their parents went shopping and Leo asked us if we would come take care of them sometime when their parents went away overnight. Did he sense that we were less likely to limit “screen” time or was it because he knew how much we would love having them to ourselves?
In the evening, we watched a sweet movie about a dolphin that lost its tail. Sunday morning we had Dunkin Donuts for the breakfast celebration for the newly-eight-year-old. His brother looked away, not wanting to watch Leo open all his presents.
A birthday party for about twenty at a community center—football for the boys and crafts for the three girls, organized to the tiniest detail by our talented daughter-in-law, filled the afternoon.
Then the Super Bowl in the evening, Leo inconsolable as the Patriots lost a close one.
Monday morning, kids off to school, grandparents off to the airport.
Over in the blink of an eye.