He says, “Hand,” and I reach over and take his small hand in mine. This is the fifth or sixth time throughout the night that I’ve heard that word and each time he whispers it, I comply. His hand warms my heart.
He shouts across the room yesterday, “You’re the best grandma ever!” and I ask why. He tells me without hesitation that I am the best grandma ever because I let him have Oreos. It’s the simple things.
We turn on “Frozen” for the umpteenth time yesterday and as Grandpa turns on the surround sound to provide theater-quality sound for our experience, he looks at my husband and chastises, “Grandpa, turn it down. It’s “grandpa-loud”!
He tells me that Kings of Leon is one of his mom’s best music and I tell him that his mom and his dad went to see them play. He says he wishes he could have gone and I tell him that they went before he was born. He says, “Oh yeah, that’s before God made me,” and I say yes. He then says that God really wanted his dad to live in heaven and that’s why he had to die. I smile and reply with misty eyes, “You are a wise little man,” and he says with much exasperation, “I’m a just boy, Grandma,” and the tears dry up and laughter takes their place. Indeed, he’s just a boy.
I am filled with joy this Easter morning.