Sun day

So, we were walking to the playground at Battle Run, EJ, Goodyear, Honey, Jen and me, and we're not even to the gate yet that sets the campground apart from the general run when EJ says that famous line, "Are we there, yet?" He says it like he knows, not only the answer, but that he's asking a question that needs asked if you're five. I'm wondering how they know all these things. How they get the jokes and the comments and know sarcasm well enough to use it and here they are, only five.

We're heading for Campsite 30, just to look at it, to see if it's still there, not that we thought it wouldn't be, but still... Goodyear walks a bit apart. Teenager. She'll come back to us someday, but for now, she might wish for a  tee-shirt that says, "I'm not with them".

Jen and Honey are a bit apart, simply because they're walking slow. I'm walking fast to keep up with EJ. By the time we reach the playground, he's ready to swing once and then be tired. Thirsty. He says, "Go back to the car and get me a rootbeer." Little boys are so funny. Does he actually think his grandmother is going to walk a half mile to fetch him a rootbeer? I laugh. He's set to make a five-year-old fuss so I use diversion.  I stomp into a mudpuddle and make tracks on the dry pavement. His imagination is there instantly and now we have to make tracks to keep the monsters from following the superheros, the tracks will throw them off because if you make tracks you are invisible. If we can find enough mud puddles he'll stay interested all the way back to the car and his rootbeer.

The teenager has had something good happen. Her mother didn't forget it was Easter. I had forgotten, other than to repost something informative about how the bunny and the eggs were Pagan symbols -- that this was another holiday borrowed (we don't mind) and used to for proselytizing (we do mind). Instead of the return of spring and Ostara, the Goddess, their version has the resurrection of a fellow killed for their sins. But this is the version that permeates the current group mind. The wee ones forgot the Grand-rents had given them bunnies and egg shaped candies back in March.

Fortunately, our Jen had bought very specific presents, even wrapped a few and created a lovely Easter basket for the teen, who, if asked, would have scoffed at the idea of childish things like Easter baskets. That is, until Easter morning, when one eye peeked open to find there was no basket waiting.

Parenting was so simple. I fed them, kept them clean, put them to bed at night, and the rest of time we played or walked places. We hung out. I've heard people say that grandkids are the most fun because you can spoil them and then send them home. Grandkids are difficult. There are rules. And I don't know them. With my own kids, I just spoiled them and somehow they didn't get spoiled. I gave everything I could give them but it wasn't much. Except for time and stories -- and always, those walks to somewhere.

Once, without a house to go to, we lived in the campground. I keep saying it was eleven weeks. I'm not totally certain. It was from June something through to the last day of September. If I had to do that with Grandkids, I'd be terrified. With my own, we were simply having an adventure. Things would work out. Things do. Meanwhile, we lived on campsite 30 and we saw the moon on the lake at 2 in the morning and when the sun came up, we didn't have to get ready to go out. We were already there. And if we ran out of things to do, we walked somewhere. No one asked, "are we there yet". We weren't walking to a destination, we were just walking.


"Go home said the man in the moon, go home,
Go home said the man in the moon, go home,
Because it's getting sort of late,
And I'll soon turn out my light,
Go home, said the man in the moon, go home..." ... sung by John Denver