On Friday evening (8/17/12), Anne and I had our first ever grandchildren sleepover or "slumber party," as 4 year old Carina calls it, when she and her big brother Cameron stayed overnight with us.
The kids behaved beautifully as Anne ordered in pizza, and served them all the pizza and chocolate milk they wanted, with Cameron also drinking plenty of lemonade. Afterward, he and I played soccer in the backyard (he won, 6 to 3) and then in the house we all watched the animated movie, "Megamind." Later, after their bath time, we tucked them in and Cameron asked for a bedtime story.
As Cameron loves wrestling, I told them the story of "Battling Irving," about a long-ago fictitious wrestler. Contented with the story, both children went to sleep, although Carina being as small as she is first got up for a glass of water in part to assure herself she could reach that glass overnight.
The next morning, Anne fixed the kids whatever they wanted for breakfast, which turned out to be hard boiled eggs, organic whole wheat graham cracker bunnies and chocolate milk. Afterward we watched "Muppet Treasure Island," as their dad, our son Clayton arrived to pick the kids up.
Carina announced she didn't want to leave, but with everyone's gentle encouragement, the kids collected their things and got in the car to go home. Just before Carina left, she took my right hand into her two tiny hands and kissed my hand, after lifting it to her face. This simple spontaneous loving act touched my heart.
After they left, I walked back in the house and in the bathroom off the kitchen, I noticed the small yellow and blue footstool in front of the bathroom sink. With a sigh and a smile, I understood that without that tiny footstool, perhaps neither child was tall enough to reach the faucets.
It was a poignant moment, one that touched me so strongly, that as of this writing, a day and a half since the children left (8/19), I still have not put that footstool away, as it makes my heart glow each time I see it.
Dick
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