Grandkids visit

Our children each used to live in a different state along the Mississippi River. Then first one then another married, found a job and settled in Arkansas. Last month, a third’s job played out. He and his wife sold their house, took a long vacation which ended in El Dorado to wait on responses on job interviews, to visit and to do a bit of long-distance contract work.
I’m loving it. The grandchildren have had time to settle down and focus rather than grab and go with the toys. The other night, I gave the four-year-old a Nerf ball and pointed at an oversized waste basket. He shot several close-up shots easily. I suggested he step back a foot and try. He missed 11 times before one went in. His arms shot up as if he had made a 40-yard touch-down.
The oldest, like her grandmother, carries around her own library. She gravitates to my overloaded bookshelves of children’s books in the laundry room, plops on the floor in front of the door and reads.
Once her thirst for information and stories is satiated, she enjoys helping me cook.
“I want to make chocolate chip cookies,” she told me one day.
“Okay, let’s get aprons.”
I found my green plaid apron with the cross stitch top, “The older the berry, the sweeter the fruit.” She found a child’s apron with “cake, cookies, pie” written on it.
I helped her interpret the recipe, directed her measuring out salt, showed her how to pack brown sugar in the cup, sift the flour and hold the small hand mixer. She dropped cookie dough onto the tray and slid them into the oven.
Her brother watched her at work and declared he wanted to make cookies, too. She went off to read again. He found an apron with carpentry tools on it and measured a few ingredients but mostly he emptied out measuring cups I had filled, held the mixer and helped me arrange the oatmeal cookie dough on the tray.
Then it was the baby’s turn.
Excuse me … if she knew I wrote that she would loudly, very indignantly declare, “I’m not a baby!” with her puckered, cherubic mouth, that belies her every word.
She agreed to make chocolate cookies. Before I said anything she demanded, “I need an apron.”
We found one banded in primary colors and outlined with sweets to eat. She thumped the wooden spoon, eagerly grabbed the measuring cups out of my hand before I had finished measuring and tasted the dough. She lost interest then and left me to clean up the kitchen.
Everyone enjoyed eating their favorite cookies, especially their father who arranged himself and his wireless computer in the lounge chair for several days while he worked for a company in California. After several days of this, one exchange student observed he was like a piece of furniture, always there, never moving … and useful.
When that contract played out, he found another temporary, albeit exciting job, working for a promotional campaign. He says it is fun for now because they are always in an emergency mode and need him to fix something, write a program, do one computer trick or another and do it right now. He gets immediate, constant gratification that his skills are highly needed and appreciated.
Hey! I really appreciate his computer skills, too – especially as long as they keep him close by – I like playing Nerf ball with little kids.