Writing It To Remember It

How do you describe a conversation with your 4 1/2 year old grandson? 

I don't know. 

I only know I want to remember it. I want to remember that when my daughter called the old fashioned way, the mancub, who was sitting beside her said, 'I want to Facetime', so we did. 

I want to remember the way the screen came to life and there he was, with his bright eyes and his sweet sweet smile, happily pounding out play dough on the kitchen table while baby brother slept and sunshine flooded the kitchen.

I want to remember how his momma and I chit chatted and he chimed in from time to time. How he heard our every word, thought about their meaning, and asked his own questions as they came to mind. The way he still does not settle for a simple answer, but needs all the information please. 

What's a braid? Well it's a hairstyle' What's a hairstyle? Insert demo by momma as she explains a braid is something girls like to do to their hair. But what's a braid? Well it's three strands of something criss crossed over one another. And so on and so forth and so on and so forth. 

My daughter calls fairly often but boys are boys, and they're toddlers, and they're brothers, and most times when we're on the phone they have places to go and people to see. The under 5 set generally needs less talk, more action and we're okay with that. 

They pop on and off the screen and tell us they love us and they miss us and hey Nana look what I made! watch me! where's Hunley Bunley? show us Hunley Bunley! They ask at least a dozen questions and tell us lots of things all while turning somersaults, constructing block houses, and wrestling each other to the ground in a fit of giggles. 

They blow kisses and there is almost always a 'debate' over which one gets to disconnect the call when it's time to disconnect. It's fun and loud and busy and we don't always have their undivided attention when we're on the phone. Which is more than fine because we so enjoy watching them play and do and be all the things little boys love to play and do and be. 

But Monday. 

Monday we had the most precious little grown up chat with our mancub about all manner of everything including the rolling pin he'd taken to school for show and tell that morning, the letter r, what's a braid, why was Uncle A and Auntie M's flight cancelled, what's cancelled, but why, what's a crew, was the plane broken, if it isn't broken why can't it fly, does Uncle A fix bones too, why not, what does Uncle A do, and fa la la la la the entire hour was sheer delight. 

It was the kind of call that leaves you feeling better about life, people, the world, pretty much everything. 

He was so cheerful, so gentle, so in tune with our whole conversation, so utterly precious that when we hung up hubs and I looked at one another and said that was just what we needed to wash away the heaviness of this world. 

Of which there is much, but today I want to think about this. I want to remember this. 

The innocence of a grandchild and the way the wheels turn in his head as he observes the world around him and understands it a little bit better every minute of every day. 

How life lately feels overly full of people who thrive on conflict and complaining, whose negativity stirs everyone up but ultimately brings everyone down, and how I want less of that in my life and more of this. 

More sweetness. More tenderness. More sunshine and smiles and definitely more seeking and finding joy in the tiniest little wonders of the world because they are there for us to unearth and savor. 

I want more family. More love. More seeing the world through the eyes of a child and feeling hopeful and heart-full because this world is not what the loudest voices say it is. 

It's a grandson saying Nana let's not hang up. Not yet.