Happy eleventh birthday to grandson, Nicholas. Instead of a birthday cake, his Aunt Chris made him delicious chocolate cake pops in the shape of a number 11. Eleven years ago, I was coaching my daughter-in-law who was in labor. She hadn't eaten all day. Every time she rode out a contraction she'd wince and say,"Owwww! That hurts and I want a BIG MAC!" We still tease her about it.
Nicholas is still a sweet and innocent little boy. I wish I could show you the group photo of the ten boys piled in the small living room, laughing themselves silly as Nick read his cards aloud. He started out reading the inspirational cards from grandparents. Then, he opened the cards from his buddies. He was as thrilled with the $ that fell out, as he was astonished at the verses. They were crass, crude and definitely purchased by the boys themselves, at least I would like to believe that. One had a cute dog on the front. "I left something inside for you..."
Nick's smiled disappeared when he saw the inside. "Dude, really. Poop?" We cracked up at his repsonse. Then he opened the next card; it was about passing gas. His facial expression was priceless. Then, the most inappropriate of all, the one he's holding. "Bet you never thought you'd get a paper weiner for your birthday." The rowdy boys rolled on the floor laughing. Nick half-snickered. And I had to laugh at his expression of disbelief. I won't mention the jokes those boys made about eating the dessert.
He received more $ than I have, Blues hockey tickets, Cardinal baseball tickets and this, his favorite gift, a ghost detecting kit. When he removed the first item, it started beeping. "Hey, does that mean we have ghosts in here?" I'm sure he will have many fun adventures with this. He's been on the lookout for Big Foot all year.
Nick's hiding in the bushes from his gun-toting buddies who were searching for him. Those overgrown, football-playing "little boys" ran and chased one another and giggled and wore themselves out playing army.
My thoughts on that gun-play took me back to the days when his dad ran the neighborhood playing army with his buddies. When I lectured him and took his guns away, he used a stick.
While I have always discouraged gun play, I realize, having raised Nick's daddy and also having taught preschoolers for almost four decades, and knowing that Nick has a tender heart like his dad...
sometimes it's best to allow boys to be boys.
My sad reality: within a year or two, these kids will think they are too big to 'play' and they will have lost all of their innocence. In seven short years, they will all be registering for the draft. Don't let me get weepy here. The kids are just growing up too fast.
At least I have Nicole, Nicholas's big-blue-eyed sister (pictured above) to make me smile. Please, no jokes about Nick and Nick :)