My Grandson, Myself

Babysat The Kid last night.

From around 4:30 to around 7:30. When Craig & Amanda whisked him out the door for the ride home, Carol and I collapsed on the floor in exhaustion. Took us 35 minutes before we could muster the energy to get back on our feet.

Jackson is 1 year and 7 months old. The little maniac has unlimited energy. He never stops moving. Walking, running, climbing, and babbling. Honestly we probably got 15 total minutes of peace the whole time he was here.

If he was an adult, I would have killed him. But he is my grandson - if they wanted us to babysit again today I would say "Hell, yeah!"

He blows into the house like a hurricane and then proceeds to make us smile, make us laugh, make us look at him in disbelief that this magical tiny human has come into our life and made it better.

He likes my "office". Runs in and out of there all the time. 

For some reason my bookcases caught his eye for the first time last night. I have between 200 and 250 books on the shelves. He randomly grabbed two books, then dropped them on the floor.

Ancient Gonzo Wisdom - Interviews With Hunter S. Thompson, edited by Anita Thompson.

"Laughing with the Gods, Charles Bukowski.

I have many HST books, I have many Bukowski books, but they are randomly dispersed throughout my collection. They are not grouped together. In addition, those two books were not even side by side.

Admittedly, Jackson is a tiny human and has access to only around 150 of my books because of his height but, still, this is an astonishing situation.

If you know me at all, you know I love these two men. They mean a lot to me. And they are an acquired taste. If I randomly polled the entire population of Belmont - 7,314 people - I'd probably find two people with a collection like mine.

So what does this mean?

I recently read a book about a grandfather imparting wisdom to his grandson. It depressed me because I have no wisdom to share, other than how not to live a life. I would rather give Jackson something positive.

When my sons were little, I was the world's greatest father - we had a blast. Since they became adults, I set a terrible example. I am painfully aware of the same dynamic with Jackson. Right now, I am a blast. When he gets older he'll recognize my weaknesses and lower his opinion of me. I do not want to experience that again. It would kill me.

Maybe he chose those books to send me a message - "Hey, Papa Joe - you and I will get along. Your opinion of yourself is all wrong. We will share things, learn together, and have fun. Just wait and see."

Or maybe it was just a painful coincidence, inspiring false hope in my diseased soul.

You believe what you want to believe, I'll believe what I want to believe.