Ava-doting

While we grandparents of Ava enjoy seeing her develop into the most precocious and intelligent child of the 21st century, we also are gleaning her precious moments, her little actions, nuances of her attitudes, wit, humor -- those little paragraphs which will become chapters of her childhood that we’ll relate to her over the years.

And, of course, ancient grandparent-eyes are not the only recorders. Mother, aunts, uncles, cousins -- all family whether blood-related or not -- will add their anecdotes to this anthology entitled Ava Belle Badger.

While I applaud video recordings of birth, infancy, toddlerhood, etc., nothing can truly replace the anecdotes we’ll recount at Grandmother’s Sunday dinner, or opening gifts in front of the tree, or celebrating birthdays or graduations. Unlike the video, our stories grow better as the years go by. Unlike the video, we need no electronic paraphernalia to set up. No, our chapters, carefully edited to fit the moment, live on the tips of our tongues, colored by love, admiration, and just a touch of doting. 

 Within the space of an hour this morning, I’ve noted two brief moments -- little seeds of future chapters. 

For part of her breakfast this morning, I lightly buttered a slice of banana bread and cut it into small bite sized cubes. After gobbling a few bits, she altered her style -- a tiny finger wiping a little butter followed by a wee tongue licking the tiny finger. Then, the moment of genius -- the tiny finger poked into the banana bread cube and held up like a lollipop, like little Jack Horner’s plum! We enjoyed a number of cubes in lollipop fashion. Alas, humor is sated quicker than stomach.

This is Monday; we must push the trash can to the curb for pickup. While Ava was of no help in gathering up the trash, as soon as she saw me pull out the large, wheeled trash can, she knew she had to help. The task, to her mind, was not pushing; it was pushing the handle -- just like I did. However, the handle is six inches beyond her reach. So doting grandad bent low so she could grasp the handle and push. At curb side she refused to let go, so for a few seconds she hung from the handle. Part of my memory will include the aching back I nursed returning to the house.

Fifteen minutes later, she came to me, arms outstretched, wanting to be held. Two minutes later she was sound asleep. That was fifty minutes ago. I think I have a few minutes for a fresh cup of coffee before I begin gathering new seeds for future chapters.

I’m just like the rest of you Ava-doters!