Indianapolis II

How long have grandchildren been growing up faster than their parents did?  Is it something to do with global warming?

It’s sobering to realize that one of the grandsons has already reached double-digits…11, at that.  I’m pretty sure the size 4 sweater I began knitting for him when he was 2 would not be on his “most wanted” gift list.  Just as well; I still haven’t reached the sleeves.

And the 8-year-old of  diminutive size and whiskey voice is as turbo-charged as ever.  He’s had a growth spurt which has added height but hasn’t slowed him down.  The same can’t be said for his grandparents.

Friday night was carb-loading for the Saturday 7:30 am Cross-Country race.  The  box of spaghetti specifying 8 SERVINGS should have fine print with the caveat “unless two of them are boys.”  It took most of a second box, too.

French toast?  I think Little Bro said he ate 14 pieces.  I know that I used a loaf and a half of Vienna bread.  DB had one piece and I ate none.  Even oatmeal!  Again, the 8-serving recipe left  a pot scraped clean. . . with two skinny boys consuming it all.   Where does it GO???

DB can confirm they are, indeed, growing boys.  He took his 50-year-old, worn-thin-but-still-sacred glove from his own baseball days for a little backyard baseball action with the boys.   His stinging, almost purple palm said it all: the brothers were throwing HEAT!  Even more humbling was that even as he was giving them batting lessons, he got struck out himself on three pitches by the 11-year-old’s killer curve ball.  He explained simply:  “They’ve really improved since last year.”

It was nonstop fun for all of us, but I may have a nightmare or two about what might have been had I not intervened when Little B almost went to his soccer match sans underwear (“Do I really need to?“)  He calls it “going commando.”

Granddad may be the sports expert but Grandmary knows how to call a free-baller out at home.

soccer game

The guest room is on the third floor.  My “sport” was hiking…up and down those stairs!


Did I mention that Daughter Boo is organized?  I should try this, only I’d have to get her to come organize me. Perhaps DB could find the extra paper towels under her system.   The mayonnaise?  Probably not.  I still need a beeper for that one.


I remember when we went to watch our son play basketball in middle school.  He went up for a rebound and he had hair under his arms! I looked at these two grandsons and realized that my daughter is alarmingly close to experiencing that same terror.

She will not handle it well.   Nor will I.

The next bottle tree is on me, Boo!



4 thoughts on “Indianapolis II

  1. cw

    too tooooooooooooooo good!!:):)

  2. texastrailerparktrash

    My eight year old grandson has no qualms about dropping trou to “water the lizard”, as Kinky Friedman puts it. It must be a guy thing….

    1. Commando guy was incredulous at the line of guys at the Cross-Country Porta-Jon. “Are you kidding me? With all these woods around here?”

      Maybe 8 is a very dangerous age…!

  3. Pingback: Encore for the Birthday Boy « Merrilymarylee's Weblog

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