NqSo I'm watching Ice Age (again) with my 3.56 year old grandson while the newborn lies beside me cooing in his sleep.Grandma is babysitting. Yea for me. Today we played, bounced, zoom zoomed, and ate like the world is running out of food tomorrow. The 102 degrees and rude stares of one man (who probably knows the meaning of miscegenation but not the definition of love) not withstanding, it was a very good day. My oldest grandson is his daddy reincarnated from his squeals when the scary T-Rex appears to reclaim his eggs from "Sid" to the way he wipes my kisses from his cheek after being instructed to give me a hug.The adorable baby looks like mama but snores like his daddy, my oldest son. They are perfect, of course. They make me long for a world where I love everyone like I love my grandsons, where we all love everyone like I love my grandsons. Agape love.
Speaking of lovefest, I watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympics last nite. Did you see it? Spectacular! World leaders...world class athletes...unity AND competition. So many nationalities and personalities in one stadium without a single incidence of violence. A saw a brotherhood on a global level yet the most I could hope for is that my two young grandsons see the world someday and not become the world where it seems all we do during the four years between Olympics is fight. In my hometown of Austin, we've recently had a shooting and a stabbing on the legendary strip known as Sixth Street. People go to Sixth Street to party, not die. Why does this jackal thing have a leaf over his eye anyway? So the point of it all is I'm starting with the girl in the mirror. Being a grandma is like my second Olympics. First time around, I fell a few yards before the finish line, crawled to a fourth place finish and consoled myself with the fact that at least I qualified to run in the race. This time, I'm going for the gold, right after we cheer Diego to victory over these frightening blue beasts. And I wouldn't have it any other way.