March 14, 2007

Life With The Lilliputians

Things learned helping grandma baby-sit five grandsquirts, together and separately, last week in Denver. 

At the first graders basketball game, all participants struggled with mechanics of the game.  The mini hoopsters not only had difficulty dribbling and shooting but were continually mystified by the exact location of the out of bounds line.  And why not, they’re just learning the game.  But when it came to the latest in basketball fashion, participants couldn’t have been more up to date as at least a third of the seven-year-old cagers sported an Alan Iverson copycat white sleeve on their left arm.  It’s an ESPN world, explaining why toddler Little Leaguers know down to the last detail the proper way to tighten a batting glove between pitches, (the bat goes under the arm freeing the hands) but many times a coach has to intervene before the next pitch to keep their young charges from batting cross handed.  Even at seven, image is where it’s at. 

Grandpa, according to the four and five year old granddaughters, is not an acceptable waitress for dress up tea parties.  Real tea party waitresses, or so I was informed in no un-certain terms, wear dresses.  Grandpas don’t. Here’s hoping they sustain that thought through college.  Jan says not to count on it.  

Where does grandpa’s lifestyle sit from a 10 year old perspective?   Passing the time of an I-25 traffic jam by attempting to convince the oldest grandson how much more exciting it is to ski than snowboard, the conversation was ended by his remarking, “But Grandpa, you don’t understand, skiing is so old school.” 

The younger grandson is in a pirate phase.  His life is filled with pirate videos, pirate books, pirate costumes and pirate X-Box games.  The older brother, watching the seven year old run through the house wearing a pirate hat and brandishing a plastic sword on a before school morning, inquired, “Are you obsessed with pirates?”  His brother replied, “Aargh!” 

At a Greenwood Village park in the late afternoon, five Dads were witnessed tending to their offspring.  How cool, thought I, today’s fathers are not so career obsessed they can’t leave work on a weekday to spend quality time with their children.  A closer examination revealed all five males, sitting on playground equipment from teeter-totters to merry-go-rounds, either on cell phones or dealing with e-mail via a Blackberry.  The total overheard verbal interaction with their kids was limited to “no”, “in a minute” and “let’s go”.  So much for quality time in the wireless age. 

I may have aged, but the reflexes remain so quick a fly is slow by comparison.  No more than a nano second of silence happens between the two year old announcing, “I poopy” and my, “Go find grandma.”