Yet another grandkid blog

Na, na, na naaahhh, nah, you tan’t det me!
Preston Noah DuCrest, age 4, September 5, 2004

Tah deh ee, Nana
Taylee Amber DuCrest, age 18 months, September 5, 2004

Of course I could get them, but that wasn’t the game. I had no intention of getting them. I did not want to get them, in fact I did not want to move at all. The game did include a minimal effort on my part, flinging out my arm as they got close to my recumbent couchified form and yelling, “Oops, almost gotcha! Better run!” Off they would run to the other side of the room, giggling and taunting, “You tan’t det me” echoed by “tah deh ee.”

“What dis game called, Nana?” the boy asked.

“It’s called the War on Terra, son. I’m George Bush and you’re Osama bin Laden, and Taylee is your chief lieutenant.”

“Oh…you tan’t det me!”

“Tah deh ee!”

“That’s the way the game is played, kids.”

It was, (drumroll please), Sunday afternoon of My Weekend WIth The Grandbrats. They had been there since Friday evening and there was only one more sleep until they were gone. I had a roast in the crockpot for dinner and was hoping (since the girl hadn’t napped long that day) that I could skate thru dinner and hustle them off to bed right after and reward myself with a nice, stiff whiskey and soda. The War on Terra game had been designed deliberately to wear them out as much as I could, and rest at the same time.

So far that weekend we had played squirt guns, (me, being gunless, was the squirtee), hide and go seek, and good guys and bad guys. I had read Peek-a-Boo, one of those thick cardboard books designed for the under two set, at least forty times. She had other books, but only Peek-a-Boo would satisfy. And although I specified emphatically that there was to be no Play Doh or Barney videos brought into the house for their weekend entertainment, somehow a Barney video made it through. (Personally, I believe Barney videos have a life of their own, and ooze their way into overnight backpacks by shape shifting into something innocuous like pajamas or a bag of cheese nips and don’t resume their original shape until they are safely ensconsed in the designated grandparent’s home.) This particular Barney video was titled, “Barney Teaches Us Manners.” Nana’s manners go on holiday when the Barney video is playing. Nana mutters unkind words about Barney, Barney’s parentage, and where Barney may enjoy spending eternity.

“What you said, Nana?”

“I said, ‘Gee, that MASTER Barney is going so SWELL.’ ” A slightly puzzled look on his face, then he’s drawn back in, mesmerized by the giant purple Dinosaur and the Stepford kids that sing the songs.

Saturday morning required a trip to the local Ben Franklin for a toy treat due to no pottie in the pull up, a major event. The local Ben Franklin has kiddie sized shopping carts and both kids apparently had been down the toy aisle before, but never, of course, with Nana. They pushed their luck. I was momentarily distracted by an acquaintence, (“Yes, my grandkids. Why yes, they are darling, thanks. What’s that noise?”) and turned to find them both grabbing small plastic animals and filling their carts. “No, no kids, one toy each.” Hah, fat chance. Five horses, one cow, one playball, three wind-up toys and twenty-five dollars later we are back in the car.

Sunday morning there was no pottie in the pull up either, but Ben Franklin isn’t open on Sunday. I was getting smart by this time. “You kids stay here with Grandad, you can watch the Barney video while I go to Lin’s market and get you a SURPRISE treat!” I was out the door before they could protest. I came back with a sack of small dogs, two boats for bathtime, a plastic container of bugs, and barettes for the girl’s hair. They were going to church with their maternal grandparents and I couldn’t send them off dirty and unkempt. It was a nice reprieve. I had a chance to read the paper, pick up the horses, cow, wind-up toys, dogs, and bugs and throw the roast on for dinner.

I saw Bill Maher on Larry King one night and he stated, “I think kids in this country are overrated.” I understood what he meant. I mean, kids are great and all, but they are pretty easy to make, no license required. And despite the dire predictions of the Dr. Lauras of the world, two parents are not necessarily required for healthy, balanced children to grow into adults. It helps, sure, if both parents are there, and are healthy and balanced. But as we know, that ain’t always the case. In the case of my own two children, they grew up just fine with one mom and no grandparents around to help. In the case of my grandchildren, they have two healthy and balanced parents, and three sets of grandparents to help them on their way. I’ll bet my grandkids turn out no better or worse than some kids who don’t have that much adult love and support.

The parents arrived at one am after a long and restful weekend on a houseboat on Lake Powell and whisked the grandkids off without waking us. I woke Monday morning with a feeling of relief, a little hole in my heart where the kids had wormed in over the past three days, and an echo in my ears: “na, na, na naaah, na, you tan’t det me…tah deh ee.”

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