Gremlins

With a huge sigh of relief, I shut and locked my front door. Whew, the little devils were gone. Hallelujah! I love my grandchildren, truly I do, but they are exhausting.

It seemed as though my house had been invaded by poltergeists, the way the lights kept turning on and off, on and off.

“Please leave the switch alone,” I begged.  

Soon I discovered that the little guy can actually scale the front of the refrigerator. Like one of those green frogs with suction cup digits. I didn’t know I could run that fast.

Their questions were never ending! Do I look like I know everything? And if I do know everything, why does the five year old feel the need to give me instructions on the proper way to do all tasks?  

Don’t touch that. Put that down. Get off your brother. Pick that up, right now. Stay out of there. What do you think you are doing. I already told you why. Yes, I actually said those things, all within the space of one very long half hour. I don’t remember it being this difficult, thirty years ago, with my children.

I’m accustomed to having my own space, so it’s an adjustment when they’re here. I got up early, hoping to shower in peace. I nearly jumped out of my naked skin when, from inside the shower with me, I heard,  “excuse me Grandma, but I need cereal now.” Those darn demons are everywhere.

Finally there was a moment’s peace and I got to sit down. One of the monsters climbed into my lap, gave me a hug and said, “I love you.” As my heart melted, he started pushing on the belly flab that rolls over the top of my jeans. He looked at me sweetly and said, “Here, let me help you push that back in.”

I checked my watch to see how much longer it would be before his mother would come to get him.

The oldest one probably didn’t need seven Thomas the Train bandages for an invisible boo-boo. But his beautiful eyes were filled with tears, and Grandma would buy stock in the bandage company if it made him smile.

My grandchildren and I have much in common. We can’t remember where we put our shoes. We need afternoon naps. We get cranky if we don’t get snack. We enjoy reading. We love a good cuddle. And sometimes we pee, just a tiny bit, in our undies.                           

When my daughter called to say she was on her way, I gathered scattered toys, clothes, tablets and earphones in record time. I didn’t want to take the chance that she would need to come back.  

As I stood on the porch waving goodbye, I fought back tears. I missed them already. The house seemed too quiet.

Then I turned around and stepped on a Lego.

Damn gremlins.