Joshua one of our grandchildren is thirteen now. I still remember the day I met him, he was a “preemie” came out of the chute weighing less than a five pound bag of sugar. Real small, I had never seen a baby that small before.
But he turned out just fine.
He was a handful, great little kid.
This morning I am thinking of the day I walked into the kitchen, long ago, and there he sat, little red head facing down towards the table, feet just off the floor, and I thought to myself, “They grow up so fast. Soon he will be a teenager and we will not have this time with him.”
Oblivious to just about everything in the room, he was deep into his ritual. He was intently hovering over his piece of yellow paper, the kind with the “big lines” on it and I asked him “Josh, what he are you doing?” and he said, “writing a letter to Santa Claus.”
Carefully, unknown to him, I studied him intently. I watched him labor with “his letters” as he refers to them, working diligently with each stroke, with care, with his big #2 pencil, he put his thoughts down on the paper.
Possibly for the very first time.
So I slowly walked over to the table and I peered down on the sheet of paper, curious to see what it is that he was so diligently working on and I saw: “Dear Santa, I can save you some time this year, please skip my sister.”
So I asked him about that, did he think it was right, did he think it was the “proper thing to do?”
And he didn’t quite have an answer for me.
“Josh, you know about the naughty and nice rule, right?” and he shook his little head and said, “Yes.”
Do you think this fits in that area? Naughty or nice? He thought about it for a minute and then said, “I dunno.”
Then I said to him, “I can get you off the naughty list, but it costs a buck? You got a buck?” and like a rocket, he shot out of the chair, ran into the TV Room and inquired of his dad, “Dad, can I have a dollar?”
Lord help us.
And yes, there isn’t anything better in the world than being a registered Grandfather.