Christmas with Grandma & Grandpa

Three of our four grandkids who live nearby came over to help decorate the tree a couple of days before Christmas.  They are all sweet beyond measure.  I say that knowing all grandparents think the same of their grandchildren.  I also often hear friends who are grandparents say, "I love having the kids come to visit, but it's great to send 'em home at the end of the day."  I'm sure that luxury inflates our impression of their sweetness.

When the grandkids arrive, they run up to the door shouting our names, arms open.  We wrap them in a bear hug and then they tear into the house, shedding jackets, boots and hats the second they set foot inside.  They run like a SWAT team from station to station, scanning to be sure all of the kid accessories are in their customary locations:  books in the baskets under the window seat, blocks and puzzles in the kitchen hutch, step stool in place at the bathroom sink.  They are also on the lookout for anything new and exciting:  a plate of cookies, wrapped packages, shopping bags that just might contain something interesting.

Our grandson likes to make sure restricted items are where they belong:  the hand-carved Austrian creche with his favorite cow and donkey figures atop the living room bookcase, great grandma's ceramic rabbit nestled at the back of an open shelf in the dining room buffet.  He checks on his favorite dinosaur books--the encyclopedic volume meant for much older kids that he pores over every visit, his favorite listening book, Tadpole Rex, and his newest,  a personally signed copy of Uncover T Rex (my wife works with the author).  His older sister, the kindergartner. wants to know if we can play her favorite make-believe games, "Little Mouse" and "Doctor."  She always arrives rarin' to help with cooking or crafts, or to head to neighborhood playgrounds or outside to build a snowman.   Younger sister brings grandma and grandpa up-to-date on whatever she has been doing in a language she invented for the purpose.

We marvel at their energy and how they can concentrate for longer than we expect on building block castles or drawing or running at top speed around the playground (or our small Victorian house).  We marvel at them, and they marvel at everything else.  When they go along to walk our dog (an adventure we describe as "Around the Block in 80 Days"),  every ten feet there's some new wonder.  "Hey, Grandpa, look.  Ants!"  "Grandma, look, dandelions!"  "Hey, there's birds on that roof."  They give us new eyes to see what's amazing in the ordinary.

Our experience is that kids--just like adults--thrive on a certain amount of routine.  We're not talking boot camp, just enough of the expected, so that they know they are somewhere familiar and safe.  Then they can be relaxed enough to notice and absorb what's novel.   And they thrive on responsibility--jobs that they can handle or can learn to handle, given their age.  We learned all this (eventually) as parents and now it's great fun to see how it helps our grandkids thrive.

We have also learned to anticipate some of the potential mishaps that upset children (and their grandparents) and make adjustments before they escalate into a fuss.  Don't want your favorite mixing bowl broken?  Pull out the aluminum one when the kids come over.  Tired of vacuuming cracker crumbs from between the couch cushions?  Make it a rule to eat only at the dining table.  Afraid you won't be able to erase their crayon art off the living room wall?  Invest an extra buck in washable markers and keep the arts and crafts alive.

For Christmas tree decoration, this translates to grandpa setting up the half-off bargain artificial tree (with its pre-strung lights and decorative berries) before the kids arrive and grandma picking the ornaments that either won't break or can be sacrificed at the altar of learning.  Which is what we do every year now.  So each kid gets an ornament to attach to the tree, which they do, finding the perfect spot within reach.  After which each squeals in delight, "Hey, grandma (or grandpa), come look."  Repeat twenty-five times, with grandpa hoisting kids to hang ornaments in the higher branches, until--voila!  An entirely kid-decorated Christmas tree.  And a grandfather with a backache, worth every hoist.

Of course, the number of ornaments on the lower half of the tree outnumbers those in the top half.  And a few ornaments get bent or chipped.  And a couple of favorites have to be taken down and admired several times before finding their way back onto the tree.  But, in the end, we accomplish something together and stand back to admire our tree with satisfaction, knowing we all have a role to play in bringing Christmas to life.