I’m feeling sentimental. Our youngest grandchild turns 2 today. Two is a pivoting point; he’s not quite a baby and not quite a preschooler. And time is flying by way too fast.
Warren was born towards the end of COVID constraints. Hospitals still had visitor restrictions so he was a few days old before I held him. He was snuggly and had a head full of wavy hair. Newborns have a way of bringing out dreams and the best in us. I looked at him and hoped that his world will be full of opportunity and adventure.
Well, that boy does love adventure! He is curious and unafraid. Jumping, climbing and running are part of his everyday world. So are reading books and blowing bubbles. And he wants to do everything his older sister does.
The waves have become tight ringlets, and we are all surprised that his eyes stayed crystal blue. He has the most winsome smile and already knows to flash it when doing something he shouldn’t. He waves and says hi to strangers and family alike and pushes his face into the phone screen during zoom calls, looking for his favorite Papa.
The boy has charm, no doubt about it.
Two-year olds are a mixture of changes. They understand more speech they can say out loud, which may lead to frustrating emotions for all. One minute a toddler wants to be cuddled, and the next they are pushing you away. Play and learning are important as they grope their way towards independence. It’s a tug-of-war and the “Terrible Two’s” didn’t get that name by chance.
But toddlers are also affectionate, funny and loving. They don’t care if you are wearing the same pajamas three nights in a row. When they wake up in the morning with wild-man bed head and smile the biggest grin, they are truly glad to see you. That is pure love. Even at 7 a.m.
So Papa and I do our best with all our grands, loving them and helping make their worlds better. We don’t want to take a minute for granted because it can all change in a moment. I hope they look back someday at memories that remind them of how special and loved they are, and that we are privileged to be in their lives.
I thought about my Grandma Kuglich today. When I was young and stayed at her house, she would give me orange juice for breakfast. She poured it in a juice glass made of real glass, not plastic, and I felt all fancy and grownup drinking it that way. Juice never tasted better. I drank some today in a similar glass and instantly I was 7 years old, in my grandma’s kitchen, with the breakfast smelling good, and me smiling through my orange juice glass.
Warren is our caboose baby, and I am keenly aware of how fast children grow up. So if he wants to sit on Papa’s lap or blow us kisses online, we take every moment. I hope someday when he is much older than 2 and out into the world that he remembers the adventures and love we share.
Even if it’s a juice glass.
Karen Roth is a semiretired librarian/educator living in Ottawa. She can be reached at dbarichello@shawmedia.com.