I had a date with another man today.
His blue eyes sparkle like sapphires. His smile is sweeter than chocolate. When he hugs me, my heart melts like butter. I’m so in love. Don’t tell Rob—he might worry when he hears I’ve fallen for a younger man. Who’s three feet tall and speaks in short sentences.
My grandson came to play at my house this morning.
On a shelf just inside our front doorway is a plaque that reads, “I may not be rich and famous, but I do have priceless grandchildren.” And sitting next to that sign are the photos to prove it. We have five grandbabies—four girls and one boy—and we are filthy rich.
We watch our daughter’s three kids fairly often. Sometimes I take the older two granddaughters on a YaYa date. It’s kind of easy to do because they live fifteen minutes away. Our two redheaded granddaughters live in the distant country of Kentucky where their parents are foreign missionaries. Those1800 miles have put a serious cramp in our grand parenting style, and we owe them some serious babysitting time (which we can make good on now that Chief has retired.) We’re pretty experienced at entertaining little princesses.
But in all his 23 months on earth, today was the first time I’ve ever spent time alone with Will. I picked him up for our date and let him ride in the first class car seat behind me. He narrated the whole drive—I love a man who communicates—and we found every horse and airplane between his house and mine.
His mama has been telling me how different it is to have a son after spending the last six years with little girls. I should have realized—after all, I have a son, too. But it wasn’t until this morning as this little guy strutted through my house, playing with the toy firetrucks his uncle enjoyed thirty years ago that I realized how long it’s been since a little boy last stole my heart.
My own little man will be thirty-three next month. (He’ll hate that I phrased it that way.) But how is that possible? I’m still so young! Images of my son, now grown, flooded through my memory in warp speed as I laughed and watched and held my grandson this morning. I let Lee go to become the man he is today years ago, but there’s still that mother’s heart . . . It’ll sound weird, I guess, but a son wraps his mom around his little finger like he can’t do with his dad, and she is forever changed because of it. My daughter understands this now and reminds me of it often.
So Will and I had lunch together—peanut butter and jelly, of course—and read books on the sofa, and he repeated every word I said like I was the sun in his galaxy. Because this morning, I was. And God gave me a gift of memory in the laughter and hugs from my little heartthrob, Will.
Boy, is Chief ever going to be jealous when he gets home from Florida tonight. I may have to take him on a date to make up for it.